


Serendipity

by InvalidUser1D



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, Love, Love Triangle, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-08 06:24:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14688342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InvalidUser1D/pseuds/InvalidUser1D
Summary: When Hermione and Draco meet again a few years after the Battle of Hogwarts, both individuals have established careers. Yet when the two must come together to bring back a young witch stranded in the Muggle world, the two realize that they have more in common than they think: Secrets, loss, and a mutual attraction.





	1. Chapter 1

14 February 2000

 

The isolated brunette picked up her quill, a motion she had done approximately one hundred and seven times, today, to sign the last bit of her contract. Hermione knew that this job would open so many great possibilities, but she didn’t know all the work she’d have to do before getting into her _real_ work. So many different things being stated, so many procedures and protocols; she hoped that her boss, Fletcher Walt, would be so kind as to provide a copy to her after she finished. At this point, Hermione didn’t care too much to read everything she signed. If she saw the words “Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures”, she would surely groan at the tedious title, though still grateful for the opportunity at hand. As the new hour dawned upon her, she could feel her eyes grow heavier while she landed on her final page of her job contact. With the end of her signature, she let her eyes rest in temporary euphoria to know that her first day was not only a success but completed.

She rested a bent arm on the table, allowing her chin to then land in her palm. It felt so good to relax and unwind and—

_CRHSNAP!_

The flash and sound of the loud camera shutter brought Hermione back to the present. Her eyes shot open, heavier than once before as she saw the Daily Prophet reporter and her photographer in her office doorway. Rita Skeeter smirked a bit, her notepad and quill hovering beside her with a pink and red dragon head cup in one hand. It was evident, from Rita’s expression, that she was amused with finding Hermione in such an unprofessional and slacking state.

“Taking a breather, I see?” Rita spoke, letting herself into the office as her eyes focused on the young employee. Hermione, feeling a bit sour that Rita would even take photos without her consent, sat up straight, attempting to confront her politely.  

“I had some papers to sign after the induction,” Hermione briefly explained. “I thought we were finished taking pictures.”

“I stuck around for the party and saw an opportunity I couldn’t pass on.” Rita shrugged, walking forward, and setting the eccentric cup on Hermione’s disorganized desk. Hermione couldn’t tell if the opportunity Rita spoke about referred to the party or to the gossip that could possibly be spread about how she couldn’t handle the job on the first day. Though, the more Hermione thought about it, it wasn’t unusual for Rita to snap scandalous and candid photographs with full intent on selling a story. Hermione shook her head a bit, trying to force herself awake before catching the scent from the glass before her. Was it fire whiskey? Leaning forward, Hermione noticed the heart-shaped candies in the cup of what appeared to be an alcoholic beverage. Hermione stared at the glass in a tiresome wonder before it dawned on her.

“It’s Valentine’s Day!”

“That it is, puppet. I figured you could use the pick-me-up before a _pick-me-up_.” Rita hinted with a wink before turning to walk out the office with her crew. Gathering her paperwork, Hermione shuffled out of her desk door, both papers and anxiety in tow. Feeling out of it, Hermione looked at the red heart shaped balloons and enchanted hearts that would appear, and dreamily puff out of existence through the department space. How could she _not_ notice that it was Valentine’s Day? Had she become that consumed with her work on the first day?

“Mr. Walt?” She asked, pushing the ajar door more open.

“Ah, Hermione,” Her boss spoke. “I hope I didn’t overwhelm you with the contracts. It’s just that your job deals with a lot of casualties. We want to make sure you understood that magical existence in the muggle world was something that needed to be handled safely and securely.”

Hermione remembered the looks of jealousy and curiosity some of the female employees held on the first day of her interview with him. She could understand why, though. He was named one of the Ministry’s most eligible bachelors. Though, Hermione was sure it wasn’t just his looks either. His personality, and how he still managed to be peppy at the end of the day, said a lot about his character

“Oh, I wasn’t overwhelmed at all,” Hermione spoke up, forcing a preppy smile on her tired face.

“Of course not. I should know better. You’re one of the most brilliant witches of our time,” Mr. Walt smiled up at his employee. “Your parents must be proud.”

Hermione’s smile became stifled a bit, an odd grimace on her face at his statement. She wanted to be upset at what he said but realized that not too many people knew of the sacrifices she had to make for the sake of her family. It had been two years, and she didn’t have a clue as to where they could be. Hermione brought herself back to reality, brushing the idea of her parents out of her mind to then smile back at Fletcher.

“I’m sure they are.”

 

 

                                                                                          --

“Congratulations, Hermione!” A few of her new coworkers spoke, leaving with some snacks and treats from the Valentine’s Day party.

“Thank you.” Hermione smiled nervously, watching them leave. They were very fashionable people; people of status. She couldn’t help but feel her confidence become the subject of question as she compared herself to them. Her job was entry level, but she got respect for being, as Rita had stated earlier that day, “the youngest of her title”.

That was both a pleasure and a pressure.

However, the only thing on Hermione’s mental, was Ron. Was he home? Was he still working? They didn’t have Valentine’s Day plans, this year, but she dreaded the fact that she forgot about the not-so-holiday holiday. Her attention soon shifted to the lift that came to a jerking stop once arriving at her department. The time she, Ron, and Harry snuck into the Ministry of Magic soon crossed her, and so did a grin. Though they did many crazy things for the greater good, that didn’t mean they had some sort of fun in the process. Or at least she did. Yes, those were the days. When she and Ron were better at being friends than partners.

Hermione stared straight ahead, seeing a tall blond man inside the flat. With one hand holding onto the latch, and the other onto some papers that he was carefully peering over, she couldn’t help but wonder if it was who she had figured.

Malfoy…

The man lifted his head, looking at her, his expression shifting from annoyance that she wasn’t entering the lift, to sheer surprise. The two stared at each other, before the boy…no… _man_ , shifted so that he was standing straight rather than slouching. He cleared his throat lightly before remembering their circumstances.

“Are you going to get in or not?” He spat in impatience. He had all the time in the world, but Hermione didn’t need to know that. Hermione could feel an odd gut feeling grow deep within her. She wasn’t happy with his response, but she wasn’t surprised, either.

“I’ll take the next one.” She spoke, waving her hand to shoo him off carelessly.

She watched as a devious smirk grew on his face.

“Good luck with that.”

Hermione, suddenly wide awake and defensive, took a few steps towards the lift.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That this is probably one of the last, if not, then the _last_ lift available, tonight.” He explained.

Hermione desperately wanted to take her chances and wait for the next one. She couldn’t tolerate him for seven years at Hogwarts, and she didn’t want to tolerate him for even just a fifteen second lift ride. But she had her priorities. In the back of her mind, she couldn’t wait to play the guessing game with Ron about who she bumped into. Thinking that it would make for an interesting story, Hermione sighed to herself, sucked up her pride, and eased into the lift with pursed lips.

The gates closed behind her, and she made note to stay far from him as possible in such a small space. However, if there’s one thing she had to admit, he smelled good. A strong, earthy cologne lingered on him, which suddenly created this curiosity among her own appearance. Did she smell good? If soap were a perfume, then yes. Did she look good? Eh. But she had to quickly remind herself that her job wasn’t to look or smell good, but to be present. So then why did she care when in his presence?

From the corner of her eye, she saw Malfoy turn back to the papers he found himself engulfed in. A wave of curiosity, as per usual, hung over her. What was he so intrigued about that would make Malfoy, the mouthiest person EVER, stay calm and collected? What was he even doing here at the Ministry? After everything his father had done, she felt as though he didn’t even deserve to set foot back in these walls.

Hermione didn’t notice that her curiosity, which began out the corner of her eye, resulted in an indiscreet turn of her head. Still, her angle wasn’t good enough. Maybe…just a little…bit…further.

Hermione attempted to inch her way a little closer to him.

Almost…there.

 From her standpoint, the only words visible that were caught on the page was a word she too was familiar with.

Ministry of Magic copy of Employment.

He worked here?!

Noticing the woman from the corner of his eye, Malfoy peeked in her direction, noticing that she failed to recognize his awareness. A sly smirk appeared on the Slytherin’s face as he knew just what he would do.

He whispered excitedly, knowing exactly what he wanted to do to get her to knock it off. The corners of his mouth curled upwards in a devious smile. He opened his mouth slightly to utter a jinx, though failing to do so as the lift ceased its transportation and came to an abrupt halt. Hermione, already leaning towards Malfoy, suddenly became pressed against him from the force, her head banging slightly on the lift wall. The two failed to catch themselves, stumbling awkwardly to the lift floor.

Hermione held her head, Malfoy’s cologne nearly knocking the wind out of her as her head leaned against his.

Wait.

His head…and…her head…

Both employees became aware of their uncanny position, with Hermione sprawled on top of him from the incident. It felt as though both parties came to the realization that they had touched for the first time since she punched him dead in his nose, in their third year.

The two scattered away from each other, trying to comprehend everything that had just happened. Draco, visibly shaken, stared at Hermione, who was holding the back of her head from the bump.

“What in bloody hell did you do?” Hermione shouted.

                                                                                          --

It had been what seemed like a full hour since the two were stuck in the lift. Malfoy had removed his suit jacket to compensate for the stuffiness of their body heat in such a tight space, and Hermione sat in the corner, her jacket and bag in her grip. Though Malfoy was sitting back, obviously dying from the heat, all Hermione could do was stare at him in both confusion and annoyance. She could’ve sworn she saw Draco open his mouth before this whole situation occurred. And worst of all, the last few people at the Ministry probably didn’t even know they were stranded. She was stuck here, wasting her Valentine’s Day night, with _him._

Malfoy closed his eyes momentarily, a somewhat sick grin on his face once he did so. Without even seeing, he could feel her anger piercing through him.

“Glaring at me won’t solve this.”

“It may not solve it, but you caused it.” Hermione blamed.

“I didn’t do anything,” Draco spoke defensively. His eyes opened slowly, returning her glare. “If it weren’t for you sticking your nose in my business, we wouldn’t be in this predicament in the first place.”

Hermione scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. For so long she had worked on handling her emotional intelligence. She had worked countlessly on trying not to make what she felt on the inside show forth on the outside. Yet, with Malfoy, it was hard not to. To her, she felt like she was right back in Hogwarts, again.

“You’re blaming me? Did you or did you not utter a spell against me?”

“…I wanted to. The lift stopped before I could get the chance to.” Malfoy spoke, crossing his arms.

Hermione groaned slightly to herself, her annoyance coming forth more prominently as she turned away from him. The fact that his eyes were on her surely didn’t help, either.  

 “Just take it easy,” Malfoy started. “Fletcher might think of it as initiative if you didn’t go home and stayed at the Ministry overnight. I’m sure you’re still an annoying overachiever. You look like it.”

“Well tonight was just clarity that you’re just as incompetent in spells as you were at Hogwarts. Just look at what you’ve done. This is unforgiveable.”

Silence fell between the two of them, the tension as thick as when they were younger. She hated the way she felt right now. She felt like the same eleven-year-old who used to be bullied by him. In the life, she dawned on all the names he used to call her, more commonly, ‘mudblood’. Hermione automatically placed a hand on her arm, holding onto the spot where Bellatrix had scarred her years before. And yet here she was, sharing the smallest of small spaces with Malfoy. The longer they waited, the more hopeless Hermione felt.

“In a rush, are we?” Malfoy asked, his head slightly cocked to the side, as though he were studying her. In fact, he was. It had been years since they’ve seen each other. Ever since the battle, Hermione blamed Draco for a whole lot, and even remarked on his cowardice to plenty of people. Sharing the air with him was dreadful.

Hermione debated mentally if she should even share her private life with him. What would be the point, anyway? For a snide remark? For him to make fun of her? For him to take full advantage of her vulnerability and emotions to prove to Fletcher that she’s incapable of putting logic and tactic over her heart?

“Are you?” She snapped, raising an eyebrow as she met his eyes once more.

He thought for a moment, shrugging his shoulder. From what Hermione had seen, his eyes began to soften while his body language still showed how closed off he was.

“Not for me, no,” His voice low and somewhat sulky. “My schedule is open, tonight.”

For a moment, Hermione could feel something inside her that made her uncomfortable…in the best way. She didn’t know why, but it burned deep inside her, forcing her furrowed brows to relax and her attitude to shift. Her stomach, which she was concealing with her jacket and purse ended up fluttering deep inside. But she couldn’t imagine why.

Was he inviting her…out? No, he couldn’t possibly be flirting. Merlin’s beard, Malfoy and flirting were not one in the same.

“Ron is waiting for me when I get home.” Hermione nervously blurted out, fiddling with her fingers.

She watched as Malfoy’s expression remained unchanged. He was still calm, collected, and staring at her. After what she just experienced, looking him in the eyes felt like such a hard task to do. But she still did it.

“I’m not surprised,” Malfoy admitted. “You two were the dream couple even before you even became a couple.”

Hermione was unsure of what was going on. Did she sense bitterness or jealousy in Dra-… Malfoy’s tone when he found out she wasn’t single? She didn’t know how to respond to that, especially since things between her and Ron weren’t exactly the best, right now, and the fact that she was stuck in the lift with Malfoy and not Ron would create more drama that needed.

“Are you seeing anybody,” Hermione forced herself to sound less nosy and more casual, as if it were just a conversational question. Instantly, she regretted her question, and while thinking quick on her feet, she found a way for the conversation to turn less invasive and more day-themed. “What I meant was, do you have a Valentine?”

“I see people all the time,” Malfoy spoke, ignoring her back-up question as if he knew that she was trying to cover her tracks. “But after a while you get tired of seeing people who barely see you.”

To Hermione, it was hard for her to keep the anger latched in her heart after what he confessed. She felt the same exact way with Ron, lately. They were seeing each other, but not _seeing_ each other.

 Hermione always felt that the drive behind Malfoy’s issues, especially in Hogwarts, was that he acted out because he was lonely. His strict parents probably closed a multitude of doors to socializing for him. He didn’t know how to be a friend, and probably not a lover, either. The few friends he had back in Hogwarts were his only ones.

And then it struck her.

“Do you miss him?” She asked.

“Miss who?”

“Vincent.” Hermione insisted. “Vincent Crabbe.”

Hermione watched as Malfoy shifted, his face grimacing at the thought of his deceased friend.

“As much as anyone would if they lost their best friend.”

Hermione parted her mouth to apologize for his loss as she didn’t receive the opportunity to do so before, but just as she started, the lift jerked them forward. The two of them quickly got up, facing the gate. The lift zoomed in transportation, soon coming to their original destination. The two watched an older man in all blue wave his wand, bringing them in.

As the gate opened, the older man decided to speak.

“Hope you two didn’t have too much fun in there. This lift always gets stuck at night, what with the lack of average weight, and all, or what have you.” He grumbled, audible to almost only himself.

Hermione slowly exited the lift, taking a few steps on the nearly empty main level of the Ministry of Magic. Before attempting to head to the Floo Network, she stopped and turned around to see Malfoy walking in another direction. Disappointment came over her. For the first time ever, she was finally picking Draco Malfoy’s brain, and making a crack in his hard exterior.

“Good night!” She called out to him bravely, feeling foolish immediately after doing so. Malfoy stopped, turning around to look at her one last time, before disregarding what she said to continue walking.

At first, Hermione couldn’t figure out what it was that made her see Draco in a different light, that night. Though, soon after rethinking everything that happened, she found out why. It was almost an unnerving, but not exactly negative feeling. This was the man who caused years of torment on her, and she just spent an hour and a half in a lift with him, on Valentine’s Day.

Of all days…

Hermione cleared her throat, convincing herself that her odd fondness was because she missed Ron and their closeness. Yes, that’s what it was. Or so she hoped. But the fact of the matter was that no amount of convincing and self-prep talks could make sense out of her new outlook on the handsome blond. The more Hermione stared as she watched him leave, the more she realized that when she got home, she would keep tonight’s events to herself.

 


	2. Chapter 2

24 January 2001

 

A loud bang on Hermione’s door woke her up from her unexpected nap. Hermione pulled herself up from the couch, her head hurting from her constant overthinking and stressing. She disregarded every safety cue that many people would utilize before opening a door. No “who?” or usage of the peephole was necessary, for she had a damn good guess as to who it was. She was, after all, waiting for him for nearly three whole hours.

Hermione opened the door, seeing both Harry and Ron standing side-by-side. Harry, without much eye contact, smirked nervously at the sight of his other best friend, a somewhat guilty expression written on his face. Hermione crossed her arms in front of her chest, looking at both Harry and Ron in disappointment.

“I suppose you made me wait this long because you were chatting up Harry about our breakup.” Hermione spoke bitterly, eyeing Ron.

“It’s not exactly news, now is it?” Ron spoke, pushing past her to enter the apartment that he once frequented nearly every day. He did have a point, though. She and Ron had broken up months before the new year, yet Hermione always pestered him, through Harry, of course, as to why he hadn’t come to pick up his remaining items. “Quick acting mental. I didn’t come to pick a fight.”

Hermione frowned, frustration emitting from her glare as she watched the two friends move towards the boxes that she had packed so carefully for him, since it was evident he wasn’t going to do it, himself.

“Don’t try to make me seem crazy, Ronald Weasley. I’m angry and frustrated. I asked Fletcher if I could leave early to make sure you got your rubbish.”

“Oh, so now it’s rubbish?”

With a roll of her eyes, Hermione huffed.

“My time is very important to me.” She spoke carefully, not wanting to jump into a fight with him. Getting him to come by was hard enough, and she was thankful it was now that he did so, rather than later if she did decide to live an actively single life and date others. Yet, Ron didn’t take too kindly to her assumption.

“Your time,” he started. “Your time is important to you? Merlin’s beard, you had me waiting all night for you to come home on Valentine’s Day.”

Here. We. Go.

Ron had never failed to bring up what happened that night. Of course, Hermione felt guilty for choosing not to tell Ron what happened, but she felt it was best to say nothing than to explain the mix of emotions she felt in the lift that night. No matter how she tried to go about explaining her situation, either option didn’t look good for her. Therefore, it’d be her secret, and her secret only. She often would consider herself the reason behind their relationship’s demise, but she knew that deep down, with her job, she and Ron didn’t have time for each other anymore. Though it sounded harsh, it was the harsh reality.

Rather than trying to argue, Hermione decided to not let the thoughts of last Valentine’s Day rush back into her mind.  Since then, she hadn’t seen Malfoy at the Ministry of Magic. Part of her was thankful for that, to refrain from another awkward encounter between them, while part of her stood in wonder. Everything, from their time in the lift, was still so vivid to her. But why? Why had she forgotten the funniest things Ron used to do, but not the way Malfoy looked, so full of loneliness and mystique.

Hermione snapped out of her trance-like state, shooing the men out of her flat once the boxes were picked up. She gave a quick “bye” to only Harry and closed the door behind them. Leaning against the door, she slid down the back of it, trying to ease the stress with a few moments to herself. Yet, her mind had other objectives. She could feel herself not really drifting away, but rather, reminiscing on her times at Hogwarts, when things were, ironically, simpler. They had a goal and objectives and a way to do these things. Now, as a young adult, they had to figure it all out.

_Hogwarts Yule Ball, 1994_

_“I don’t know,” Hermione worried, looking herself over in the dress. “What if it’s too…”_

_“Too what?” Ginny asked. Hermione glanced at her friend, not too pleased with the look she was receiving. Was she overthinking something as small, beautiful, and simple as a dress? Hermione couldn’t help but think of herself as silly. For Christ’s sake, she had been petrified before, had come toe-to-toe with a troll as a first year, and dealt with Azkaban escapee, Sirius Black. But now, she was too jittery to step outside of the bloody room to meet Viktor._

_“Too cold.” Hermione lied. She needed an excuse, any excuse, to help reassure her that the Yule ball would be a bad idea. She was just waiting for that sign._

_“Too cold? What do you mean too cold? We won’t be outside.” Ginny spoke, standing up beside her friend. “Come on.”_

_Hermione gave resistance as she felt Ginny’s attempt to tug her to the door._

_“I’m nervous.” She spoke, this time truthfully._

_Ginny stared at her friend for a moment, a slight smirk forming on her face before she rolled her eyes._

_“Don’t be so dumb.” Ginny teased, holding her hand as they then left their dorms._

_Hermione had wished that she didn’t tell Ginny to go ahead to the hall before her. She regretted the attention she would feel as she came down alone, but knew that if she were a true Gryffindor, she would have to conquer her insecurities on her own. So, she began to walk._

_With each step she took, Hermione’s eyes searched in the sea of people, for her friends, and more importantly, her date. She glanced down, suddenly becoming hyperaware of her presence coming down the stairs. What in the hell was she doing here?_

_She felt her stomach become knotted with both excitement and anxiety. Pausing for a moment to use her position on the steps as an advantage to see the crowd, she searched carefully while twiddling her fingers. It was probably one of Hermione’s secret nervous habits._

_Soon, all searching became pointless._

_In the crowd, one of the only faces staring back at her, she saw him._

_He was dressed in black and looked far different from what she was used to seeing. Panic overwhelmed her at that very moment. He was alone in his action, though surrounded by his usual company of friends, but no matter how much they tried to talk to him, Malfoy appeared to be in a daze._

_Their eyes were locked as Hermione’s mind, usually running a mile a minute, was completely blank. The only part of her that responded to what was occurring was her heart. Did she look awful? It was Malfoy who was staring, so she probably looked despicable. But then again, it wasn’t his usual sneer that she was used to. It was different._

_Shock. Confusion. Speechlessness._

_Perhaps even yearning._

_Ha, as if…right…?_

_Hermione looked him over from her standpoint, her movement continuing down the stairs in what felt like a floating motion, as she stared only at him, and him at her. He did clean up well, that was a fact. But, he never was really a slob, to begin with. He was always adorned in the finest of clothing with the best styles. It’s just that this time, he was captivating. He was…_

_“Viktor!” Hermione spoke, completely startled as she saw the student step from the sidelines and directly in her view of the Slytherin._

_All he did was speak, with a slight smirk on his face. His reaction to her didn’t compare to what she saw on Malfoy’s face, but she figured it wasn’t fair to compare the two of them, as they were two very different people._

_Hermione smiled as she linked her arm with Viktor’s, happy to have found her date, but still lost in what had just occurred moments before that. As they began to walk, Hermione couldn’t help but turn around to see Malfoy just one last time before they’d be separated for the rest of the night. Her eyes spotted him in the crowd, as now he and most of the Hogwarts crowd watched her make her way onward with her date._

_From her point in the hall, Hermione watched as one of Malfoy’s friends, Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson nudged him, noticing his stare at the beautiful girl. Almost like snapping out of the trance, Malfoy’s mouth turned up in a sly grin, and soon into laughter as Crabbe spoke, making faces and pointing out Hermione. Clearly, she was the subject of their inside joke._

_Hermione frowned, turning back around, her arm tightly in Viktor’s care, reminding her that she was there to be with him; not Malfoy nor anyone else. She felt foolish to think he had genuinely seen something in her to begin with. Regardless, Hermione tried to push the thought aside, focusing on the much anticipated night._

_\--_

These days, Hermione felt especially lonely. Hermione felt that since the breakup, Harry had basically abandoned her to take Ron’s side and the comfort she did take in knowing Ron’s items were still around, were no longer there to supply that sort of energy to her. Her days off were no longer spent double-dating with Harry and Ginny, but solely with herself.

She missed it.

While she tried to convince herself that her and Ron breaking up wouldn’t change the ways of their friendship, she’d be failing to lie to herself.

Hermione looked down at her small coffee cup and turned her gaze to the large windows at the front of her favorite enchanted coffee shop, Chance. From inside, Hermione could see the people outside walk by and through the softly falling snow. Such a sight like this would be too pretty to enjoy all alone. And yet, like clockwork, Hermione could feel her stomach drop and her heartrate hasten as she watched him walk through the coffee shop.

_Him._

Hermione silently panicked for a moment, unsure of what to do. What do you do at a moment like this; where you’re plagued with loneliness and an opportunity arises to end it with an unlikely prospect. Hermione gripped her cup of coffee, holding it up to her face as a potential disguise so that he wouldn’t notice her. What if he saw her without her hair professionally done? What if he spoke about her to Fletcher? What if he attempted to converse with her?

The horror!

“Wanna take a chance?” A small, gentle voice asked just from beside her. Hermione, visibly freaked out, looked at the person in question.

“Huh?”

“A chance,” The young woman repeated, looking down at the platter of pastries she had on her tray. They were Valentine’s Day themed with cookies with different words on the front. She had almost forgotten that the small holiday were coming up in a few weeks. “We’re all out of the ‘LOVE’ cookies, unfortunately. But we do have a batch baking in the oven, if you’d want to wait.”

Hermione grimaced at the irony of having to wait for a love cookie, and silent rejected with a shake of her head. A ‘love’ cookie would’ve been the last thing she picked. Instead, she looked at her options. Patience, Kindness, and Courage.

Hermione glanced up at Draco who had walked to the window, peering outside as he waited for his order. She looked back at the woman, almost as if for permission, and reached towards the light pink, heart-shaped cookies.

Courage.

“Excellent choice, ma’am,” The woman delighted. “Take a chance today. May you be courageous during this lovely time of year.”

Hermione looked down at the cookie, and without much thought, decided to stand up. With her coffee cup in her hand, and Courage literally in her other, she decided to walk towards him, her mind racing about what it is that she would say to him. What would be a good opener to someone you haven’t seen or spoken to in almost a year?

“Mr. Malfoy?” The worker asked as she handed him a steaming cup of what appeared to be hot chocolate with a peppermint candy stick exposed at the top. Hermione had started to get closer to him, her heartbeat the only thing she could hear, and soon, the only thing she could focus on. She watched from behind him as Malfoy paused, taking a sip of his beverage, and soon turning his attention towards the dark-haired woman who walked into the shop to greet him.

Hermione, instantly embarrassed, took a sharp left towards the garbage can, and tossed out both her drink and her courage, attempting to keep a low profile.

“Are you ready to go?” She asked, her voice deep and sultry like velvet. She was statuesque, meeting Malfoy in height while she matched his all-black get-up. Her sharp and keen features led Hermione to question if she were a model, and soon frowned at the thought.

Both individuals were tall, dark, and beautiful. A perfect pair. As the couple left, walking out of the coffee shop and down the street, Hermione sighed, putting on her coat, and then leaving, as well.

Walking down the street, attempting to get back home, she replayed the events over and over in her brain. Why did she even try to speak with him? What would be the purpose or a logical outcome?

Hermione looked up from where she was walking on the sidewalk and stopped dead in her tracks. Across the street, she saw a familiar face staring back at her with intent.

Ginny?

Hermione watched as Ginny began to walk in the opposite direction on the other side of the street.

“Ginny!” Hermione called, jogging a bit to catch up to her friend.

“I’m not supposed to speak to you!” Ginny called out, managing to walk a bit faster than her normal pace. Fearing that she wouldn’t reach her in time, Hermione huffed, attempting to catch her breath before blurting out,

“I miss you!”

Ginny stopped dead in her tracks, turning around quickly. Her face showed solemn and longing before she rushed to Hermione, throwing her arms around her.

“I miss you, too! So much! I don’t care that you and my brother broke up! I just miss our friendship.”

Hermione found comfort in Ginny’s embrace, fighting back tears of relief. Maybe this was the start of Hermione’s newfound normalcy that she was desperately looking for.

                                            

                                                                                          --

Hermione sat on the floor by Ginny’s fireplace, a million and one things running through her mind. She could hear faint footsteps behind her, causing her to snap her neck in the sounds direction. Ginny was looking down at her friend, a small smirk on her face as she held a glass of fire whiskey in each of her hands.

“Don’t worry, Harry won’t be home anytime soon.” She reassured. Ginny walked towards Hermione, sitting down beside her by the fire and handing her a glass.

“Thanks,” Hermione spoke, taking the drink and quickly gulping most of it down. Hermione cleared her throat a bit, looking at the remnants of the cup and then turning to Ginny who was staring at her, both in shock and wonder. Hermione couldn’t help but laugh, this time in the most genuine sense. “What? Can’t catch up?”

“Oh, I can,” Ginny spoke, taking a bit of her drink as well. “But what I can’t keep up with is you and Ron.”

Hermione’s smile began to fade a bit, turning her attention to her cup shyly before looking for a way to restart the conversation.

“So, how are things with you and Harry?” She asked, a gentle smile of curiosity on her face.

“Well, I don’t see too much of him. He’s been helping Ron move into his new place, and he’s been bouncing around with work. When he’s home, I try to arrange for us to go out together, but it’s a fruitless task. He’s always busy going into town and when I ask to join, he pushes me off. So, we’ve been pretty distant.”

“Do you still feel like the love is there?” Hermione asked.

“Of course. It’s just that sometimes it’s hard to believe it when you stop seeing each other for so long.”

“That’s what happened to Ron and I, personally,” Hermione spoke. “The distance was too much.”

“Distance,” Ginny questioned as she furrowed her eyebrows. “The way Ron had it set up, he made it seem as though you were cheating.”

“Cheating?!” Hermione exclaimed. She had never once thought about overstepping the boundaries in her relationship before, and the news both hurt and angered her. The nerve of Ronald Bilius Weasley.

“Easy,” Ginny spoke, trying to diffuse the situation. “I know you never would.”

“Well it’s nice to know somebody is sane these days,” Hermione spat. “No offense.”

Ginny gave a careless shrug to her comment, as it didn’t bother her, and prepared herself to ask a few more questions regarding her brother’s doomed relationship.

“What _did_ happen to you two, though?”

Hermione looked off a bit. It was hard to answer the question, or at least she tried to convince herself it was too hard. She looked at Ginny, her eyes full of understanding and care. She knew she could confide in Ginny, the only issue was Ginny’s fiery personality with Hermione’s confessions.

“Last year on Valentine’s Day was my first day at work. I spent the whole day in my office until I finished my contracts and agreements. I left the building and I…got stuck.”

Ginny blinked, not fully comprehending the story.

“You got…stuck?”

Hermione nodded, her tongue in her cheek to prevent herself from spilling anymore details that could possibly cause judgment. Though, the way Ginny’s eyes begged her for clarity made it especially hard to do so.

“Hermione, I missed our friendship. We were best friends and haven’t spoken in months, and I want to be neutral in this situation but I just…I can’t. Especially when you won’t tell me anything. If it wasn’t that bad, then you should be able to say so.”

“I was stuck in a lift for at least an hour with Draco Malfoy.” Hermione blurted breathlessly as her heart raced.

Ginny stared at her blankly before she let out a hearty laugh. Hermione pouted, watching her friend as she howled, not taking the matter seriously.

“That’s all? That’s it? You never told Ron that you were in a lift with Malfoy? The one guy you _hated_ in Hogwarts? Get it a grip, love! Tell me, how awful was it?” Ginny asked, taking another sip of her whiskey before fully committing herself to Hermione’s story.

Hermione paused for a moment, using the brief silence between them to think. She inhaled, remembering the cookie she got earlier and decided to just let the situation be over with. She couldn’t keep it a secret forever. Especially not the way it impacted her, to this day.

“I enjoyed every minute of it.” She confessed shyly.

Ginny’s face softened, no longer finding the situation amusing the more she realized how serious Hermione was. She sat up straight, shifting her gaze to the fire as it crackled, breaking the silence between them.

“Oh.”

With the new revelation, both girls lifted their glasses and took a swig of their whiskey.


	3. Chapter 3

Ever since Hermione’s confession, she found that Ginny’s behavior towards her had changed dramatically. The night Hermione had told her that she and Malfoy shared awkward hours in a lift on Valentine’s Day, Ginny felt that Hermione still was keeping things from her, which caused another rift between the two friends. Yet, no matter how hard Hermione tried to convince her, the task was just impossible. She remembered spending her Saturday night and rest of her Sunday mourning. Mourning because she and Ginny had a damaged friendship, mourning because she and Harry’s friendship was now nonexistent, and aching because she couldn’t figure out why, so suddenly, this fascination with Malfoy had come forth? What was the reason? And more importantly, was she going to tell?

Hermione found that her energy and demeanor had changed in different ways when she crossed between the wizarding and muggle world. In the Muggle world, she was more cautious about the things she did. Was her wand hidden? Check. Did she display anything that would raise question about her? Nope. Ever since the disappearance of her parents, she rarely stepped out into her former “home”.

Hermione pushed the door open to the small delicatessen that she frequented when needing to read up about any unusual sightings in the muggle world and stepped inside.

“Morning Sal!” Hermione called, a brief wave to the old, fragile man behind the counter.

“Ah, morning Sarah. How’s your mother doing?” He asked with a toothy grin. Hermione felt her heart flutter a bit at the question. This gentleman has always lived up to the title of being such, and in turn Hermione lied to him on numerous occasions to secure her identity. Still, she was always aware that each time she stepped into their world, she had business to tend to. Nothing more, nothing less.

“She’s well, Sal. Thanks.”

“Oh, lovely. God bless!” He smirked.

Hermione walked over to the counter, thoughts of both her mother and her father on her mind. Many Christmases and birthdays, and other holidays; long forgotten. Gone, just in an instant. Laying the newspaper on the counter, she reached in her purse to find some change to pay him, and in the middle of doing so, she stopped once her eyes glanced over the front page of the paper.

Sal noticed her sudden trance and leaned towards her, completely disregarding her personal space.

“You alright, dove?” He asked, his blue eyes peering through large spectacles.

Hermione lifted the newspaper, facing it to him.

“What’s this?” She asked, referencing the cover page. In big, bold letters was the title:

                                                            **‘OH, OH, OH, IT’S MAGIC:**

**NUN CLAIMS ORPHAN HOLDS**

**MAGICAL ABILITIES.’**

“Oh, that’s nonsense, love.”

“I need you to tell me what it’s about.” Hermione pressed him, careful to make sure her voice didn’t sound too demanding to not create suspicion.

Sal smiled a bit, his eye twinkling at her demand.

“It’ll cost ya, first.” He teased.

“Oh, right.” Hermione spoke, handing him his payment.

“Haven’t ya heard on the news? Muldoon’s Orphanage is saying a lil’ girl has ‘magical powers’.” Sal made sure to dance his fingers around once he said the last two words, just for dramatic effect.

Hermione’s heart began to race, her eyes fixated on the cover.

“I mean, it’s just rubbish, isn’t it?” She asked with a shrug. “There’s no proof, right?”

“I don’t know, love,” Sal looked around the empty store, as if the racks of snacks and utilities had ears. Little did he know, he was spilling all the information to the right person. “Legend has it that there are witches and wizards in London. Everywhere. We just can’t see them.”

Perplexed, Hermione made herself comfortable as she leaned on Sal’s countertop.

“What legend?”

“Aye, the ones with purple skin and are ten feet tall. They ruled London in the 1700s, until they were captured by Queen Victoria and her dragon in 1717.” He spoke.

Hermione thought for a moment, looking him over. His story was clearly fabricated, but the one printed in black and white was not. Yet, to throw him off of her curiosity, she tilted her head to the side to slightly entertain the conversation.

“Queen Victoria ruled in the 1800s.”

Sal blinked, a soft smile crossing his face. “Well then perhaps I am getting old, after all.” He shrugged, walking off.

 

                                                                                          --

Hermione could feel herself sweating as she neared her office. Surely Fletcher heard about it already, but she wanted to gain as much information as she could, first, before digging into a proper narrative to sell the Prime Minister. Hermione opened the door to her office, pausing instantly as she saw Fletcher standing there. His arms were crossed, and in the entire year that Hermione had worked for him, she had never seen such a pained expression on his face until today. The more she opened the door, she realized he had someone in her office with him.

Hermione paused, recognizing the woman from when Draco had met up with her in Chance on Saturday. There she was, standing there, equally as pained, and just as unamused as Fletcher was. But why _her_ office?

 Hermione watched the two carefully as she walked in.

“Good morning.” Hermione greeted, gripping her newspaper tightly. “I have to show you something.”

“We know.” The woman spoke curtly, her eyes staying planted on Hermione’s. Hermione glanced at Fletcher who looked down and then back up at her.

“Am I in trouble?” Hermione spoke, taking a step towards Fletcher.

“Merlin’s beard, Hermione. You’re the best witch I’ve got on my team,” He commended. “It’s just that with recent…incidents…we have to come up with a solution to this, and I personally think you’re the best person for the job.”

“Why don’t we get in touch with the Prime Minister and try to claim the worker is mental?”

The woman looked at Fletcher, clearly bored with Hermione’s inane suggestion.

“I thought you said she was one of your best.” She insulted.

Hermione furrowed her brows.

“Then what do you suppose we do?” Hermione spoke up. She recognized that she was barking back at the woman somewhat out of misplaced jealousy, as well as because she undermined her. Fletcher watched the two women eye each other before stepping forward to attempt at diffusing the tension.

“Hermione, surely you’ve heard of Agatha Bulridge?” He asked, feigning a smile.

“I haven’t.” She spoke, looking the woman over.

With a roll of her eyes, Agatha turned to face Fletcher, clearly both unintimidated and unimpressed by Hermione.

“I say we go into that orphanage and obliviate the hell out of them.”

“No,” Fletcher rejected quickly. “We can’t go in there with force.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily say my job is forceful.” A familiar voice spoke from behind her.

Hermione turned around quickly, seeing Malfoy standing there in the doorframe. His eyes strategically bounced from Fletcher to the woman, completely avoiding Hermione as he stepped into her office. Hermione would’ve loved to know when and where she received the memo that there would be a surprise meeting in her office, but that was the least of her worries.

“Draco can handle it with no problem. He’s the best Obliviator on my team.”

“As Hermione’s boss, I hired her to do damage control in situations like this. This is the Office of Misinformation, after all.”

“And Draco is apart of the Department of Magical Catastrophes. He’s just as much apart of this as she is.”

“Well I didn’t call you in here to begin with!” Fletcher nearly shouted in annoyance.

“That’s it. Come on Draco. Let’s let them handle it, since apparently they’re so high and mighty.”

“I never even-”

“Hey!” Hermione shouted, looking tiredly at the three of them.

“Malf- Draco and I will work on it together. It only makes sense,” She spoke. She didn’t really mean for it to come out as a suggestion, for she knew that somehow, her occupation and his worked hand-in-hand. They essentially needed each other for this quest. “If Draco agrees.”

Draco, feeling conflicted. He wanted to be both shocked and not shocked with her suggestion, though he knew Hermione’s Hogwarts personality. Taking charge was something she was fond of and knew to do very well. He looked to Agatha, his boss, for permission who stepped back, letting him make the decision for himself. He looked around as everyone stared at him, waiting for either his confirmation or disagreement.

“Sure.” Was all he managed to utter.

                                                                                          --

 

 

Hermione sat at her desk, thankful that she had her haven back to herself. After this morning’s impromptu visit, she desperately needed time to gather herself back together and reflect on what she had done. She had volunteered both herself and Malfoy to such a heinous task, and it was approved. Somehow. Malfoy’s boss had to admit that their jobs did go hand-in-hand, and to go in with one and not the other would be pointless. To Hermione, an agreement was music to her ears, as well as knowing that the attractive, sultry woman was nothing more but his boss.

A soft knock came from her office door and Hermione looked up, momentarily taking her eyes off the newspaper. Now she realized why he was so consumed with the paper one year ago when they unintentionally reconnected. This was the first time in a year that she was handling a project this big and knowing the stipulations of your employee contract did help process what you were getting into.

Malfoy stood in her office doorway, causing her whole person to shift.

“Come in.” She invited, motioning towards the seat in front of her.

Malfoy took a few steps forward, his hands buried deep into his pants pocket as he studied her from where he was standing.

“I think it’s important for you to know that if we’re going to work together, we have to put all past occurrences and differences aside.”

Hermione furrowed her brow, standing up to look at him, though he was still taller than her.

“You mean the years you tormented me with slurs and your prejudice?”

Malfoy thought for a moment, shrugging his shoulders slightly to give in and agree with her question.

“Exactly.”

Hermione scoffed, shaking her head for a moment. The more she thought of it, the more she questioned why she was so stressed out about why Malfoy had come to her mind, at all. He was still the same person. He can’t do any wrong because he’s always right. He never learns.

“Partners.” Hermione spoke, extending her arm. To her, it was hard let go of two things regarding Malfoy. First, it was hard to let go of the slurs he had beamed at her countlessly for years, and secondly, it was hard to let go of how she felt, whatever it may have been. Still, it didn’t help that he still annoyed her to a degree with his oblivious nature. Perhaps he had performed one too many charms.

Malfoy looked down at her hand, debating whether he wanted to shake it, but complying to ease her and gain her trust.

“It’s about noon,” Draco spoke, glancing at his pocket watch. “Are you going to lunch?”

Hermione glanced at the clock in her office.

It was only 11:56.

Usually, she was a stickler for doing things on time and on schedule, but in this case, she was ready to bend her “rules”, at least just this once.

“Yeah, I am. Why?”

“Well since we’re partners and all, now, maybe we could grab a bite together. To, you know, discuss this situation.”

Hermione could feel her stomach burning. That same butterfly effect she felt deep within last year, had come back around for a second trial. She felt both nauseated and excited at his suggestion, and in order to keep her cool, Hermione raised an eyebrow.

“What makes you think I would want to spend my lunch break discussing the case?” She asked, attempting to entangle him. Malfoy’s eyes narrowed, as if he were seeing right through her. He took a step forward, and in a soft manner, he spoke up.

“You and I both know that you want to.”

Hermione wondered if he knew what it was that she was thinking. Did he leave that statement open on purpose? Was he referring to lunch with him, or talking about the case? Hermione decided that overthinking his words wouldn’t help how she felt about him, nor the case they had on their hands. So instead, she complied with a small,

“Fair enough.”

 

Draco watched from outside Hermione’s office as she fumbled to get her belongings together. She was so neat and organized. Nothing about her changed, and deep down, he wondered if her hatred for him had stayed, just as his curiosity for her did. He couldn’t help but think back on their Hogwarts days. On the days where she and him had unspoken moments, or at least to him they did. The thoughts didn’t so much scare him, but essentially made him even more intrigued to be around her. But he wasn’t sure in which way. She and him had never received the opportunity to be paired together in a project, so what they both saw of each other, bickering and arguing, was what he assumed was her normal self. He could remember thinking, on the night of the Yule Ball, how she could ever find a date. Who would want to go to prom with nosy, know-it-all, brilliant, beautiful, courageous Hermione Granger? The thought was preposterous!

He watched as she came walking out of her office, waving her wand to lock it behind her before meeting him side-by-side.

“Are you _finall_ y ready?” He asked.

Hermione nodded, looking at him. “I didn’t even take that long! Now come on, let’s get moving.”

“Are you certain?”

Hermione rolled her eyes, brushing past him.

“We’re going to lunch, not out of the country.” She emphasized, walking ahead of him.

Draco smirked to himself, walking to catch up to her, before they both stopped at the lift. They both stood in awkward silence, ignoring the witches and wizards walking by, some greeting them, some submerged in themselves to even speak. Regardless, the lift that was once the cause of their late-night sensitivity session last year stood available before them.

“Wanna take the stairs?” Draco asked, not even daring to look at her.

“I think that’s a good idea.”

 

 

Draco took a sip of his hot chocolate before picking out the long peppermint stick and crunching on it once before returning it to his cup. With Hermione sitting across from him, he felt vaguely stifled. They were in his favorite shoppe, Chance, drinking his favorite drink, sitting with someone he barely knew anymore.

“Where did you get this newspaper?” He managed to ask, picking up the thing before handing it back to her.

“I travel to the Muggle-world from time-to-time. Not really to stay. But to do research.”

“Not to visit your folks?” he asked matter-of-factly.

Hermione glanced up at him, looking him dead in the eye from his question.

“I would, but I don’t know where they are. So, if you’re going to talk about Muggles, I’m asking you to just wait until after the investigation, because the most I must do is tolerate you, and I’m barely managing.” She remarked before turning to the newspaper and opening to their article of importance.

Draco grimaced at her statement. He didn’t know her life had returned to something like this. Little Miss Perfect Granger was imperfect? Her personal life didn’t really shock him, but mostly her defiance to his question did. She still obviously thought he was the same slur-slinging, “Mud-blood” singing idiot from their younger days. She didn’t see the new and improved Draco, but could he really blame her? Instead, an odd sadness fell in his chest, which made his heart beat and his legs grow restless. He crossed them, shifting in his seat to regain his comfortability. What would he reply with a statement like that? Do you respond at all?

“I didn’t get the chance to read the article. What does it say?”

Hermione sighed in slight annoyance. She had begun to silently wonder if taking Draco on as her partner was a  bad idea. Not because she didn’t have faith in him, but for the simple fact that he just didn’t stop talking! She loved being alone to her thoughts, thinking and jotting and everything that came to mind down. But with him there, asking one question too many, she felt a bit bothered. In order to help answer his question, she held the paper up in front of her, her eyes scanning the page to read the most important part as she cleared her throat.

“Sister Mary Gertrude Feeney, 46, reported that on Wednesday afternoon, an orphan in her care began exhibiting strange attitudes. When the toddler, 3, would cry, the lights would dim and flicker, yet retreat to normal once the crying ceased. She has also seen toys floating in the room towards the child, though when fully entering the room, the toys would drop to the floor once the child became aware of her presence.”

Draco paused for a moment, looking at the worrisome expression painted on her delicate face.

“Have you ever had a case like this before?” He asked.

Hermione shook her head, “Never. Most of the time, they were just cases of what people _thought_ they saw. But coming into full contact with a child of magic is damaging.”

“In short?” Draco asked, slightly mocking her for her added words.

“In short,” Hermione started. “If it’s true, we’re in huge trouble.”


	4. Chapter 4

The following day, Hermione was still at a complete loss regarding both the case and having Malfoy as a partner. The thought was so foreign and unusual to her. Never in her life did she think something like this would happen. Yet, ever since their lunch together yesterday, she hadn’t heard from him since. So much for staying connected. She couldn’t help but glance at her clock, remembering how he had came and stole her away from her lunch at 11:56 yesterday. Yet, today was a different day, and it was nearing 11:50. Still, no Draco. And no word from Ginny, either. She missed having a girlfriend in her life, especially during this tough time. Who else was she going to talk to about the situation with Draco, besides herself in her deep moments of analysis?

Hermione’s hands traced the cover of the newspaper, a visual of the orphanage blasted on the front page, with a million questions that needed to be answered. Soon. Hermione looked at her notepad, a bunch of scenarios she contemplated, yet they led to nowhere. They could do just as Agatha suggested. Going in full force to obliviate the orphanage staff did seem like the surest way to go about things. But what about the people the nun told? What about the child?

A quick knock was heard from Hermione’s door, making her heart race. Draco?

She quickly fixed her hair, pushing it behind her ears before calling for her visitor.

“Come in!”

She watched as the door opened, a bouquet of flowers greeting her first before Ginny’s sweet face came in next. Shocked, Hermione stood up to meet her friend at eye-level.

“What are you doing here?” Hermione asked, almost scared to converse with her. Their last conversation did not end well, and with good reason. Ginny was under the impression that Ron’s assumptions about Hermione cheating were plausible, especially after admitting that she enjoyed her time spent with Draco.

“I can leave,” Ginny dryly teased, her thumb aiming out the door. The two women stared at each other, unsure what the other wanted to say before they both came to.

The two girls opened their mouths at the same time in built up anticipation.

“I’m sorry!” They both called out in unison.

“No, wait.” Hermione tried to speak, attempting to take the lead.

“No, please. Let me explain,” Ginny spoke, walking into the door as she closed it behind her. “I think I took your confession too hard without considering how you were feeling in this whole situation.”

“I understand. I was dating your brother for a while, so of course you’d want to be on his side.” Hermione assured.

“I mean, this has to be very emotionally exhausting for you.” Ginny spoke, almost mesmerized with the subject matter. The way Ginny looked, it seemed that the thought of anyone, let alone Hermione, potentially fancying a Malfoy seemed impossible. And yet, here she was.

 

                                                                                          --

Tick, tick, tick, tick…

Draco stared at the clock, visibly annoyed as his boss went on and on about potential ways to counter the magical claims in the muggle world. He was desperately waiting for the clock to strike noon so that he could go to lunch, and perhaps even see Granger again. The more he thought about her, the more he realized he never once said her name. Her _first_ name. Her-mi-on-e. During his daydream, he mouthed the name to feel the syllables within his mouth.

“Draco.”

Draco instantly snapped out of his daze, his entire focus now on his boss who stood before him. Her eyes pierced at him, making him slightly uncomfortable, to say the least.

“Yes?”

“Have you been listening?”

As much as Draco has been one for smart remarks and wit, he didn’t have an answer for his boss. Instead, he tried to pick up the one thing she’s been talking about ever since yesterday.

“Uh, you want us to ambush the muggles and…”

“Obliviate. That’s when you come in, do you understand me?”

But he didn’t. Draco knew his job had use, but in this case, he wasn’t so sure. Maybe he wasn’t sure because it’s such a sensitive topic, or maybe he wasn’t sure because he and Granger hadn’t come up with a plan, _together_. But, for the sake of arguments, he stood up, stretching a bit.

“I don’t necessarily agree.”

Agatha looked him over, visibly insulted at his response. She was his higher up. The fact that he was taking the lead bothered her greatly.

“And why not?”

“Because Hermione and I are working on this together. As much as I appreciate your guidance, I don’t think obliviating  any and everything would be the best option.”

Agatha followed his action by standing up, matching him in height. She walked towards him, attempting to intimidate the young man.

“I’m so happy that Hermione is paying you, as well,” She growled. She rolled her eyes as she turned on her stilettos, heading towards his office door and giving two snaps of his fingers. That was his cue for lunch, though Draco suddenly felt ill. He knew he wouldn’t vomit, but the way Agatha loved to maintain control was such an uneasy feeling for him. Before a Wizarding World catastrophe like this, Draco was compliant and intrigued with all that Agatha had to teach him. Now, with Hermione, he felt as though he had a choice.

Options.

Besides, he dealt with so much pressure and control from his father that Agatha reminded him of his blood. It just stunned him that he began to notice all these things just as Hermione began to resurface.

  
Draco walked straight ahead, noticing a few Witches and Wizards whispering to each other at the sight of him. Though there apparently weren’t anymore leads about the magical child in the muggle world, in the wizarding world, this was not a good sign. Though, he was unsure why people would be whispering about him, to begin with. Possibly because he and Hermione were presented as the ones handling the case? He decided that it was a matter for another day as he neared Hermione’s office.

The door was open a jar and the closer he got, he could hear two muffled voices whispering about inside. He raised his hands, knowing better than to eavesdrop, and tapped lightly on her door.

“Come in!” Hermione called.

Draco opened the door, surprised at the sight in front of him. Hermione, Ginny Weasley, and…flowers? He stepped inside, analyzing the setting quickly before turning to Hermione.

“I-uh, I was just checking to see if you wanted to join me for lunch at Chance? Perhaps for some brainstorming,” He asked, but to no avail. The two women stared at him, wide-eyed and silent. Had they been discussing him as well? “Was I interrupting something?”

“Heavens no,” Ginny chimed, clumsily getting up from her seat. She gave a nervous giggle and turned to Hermione. “I will see you later this week for…knitting. Yes, knitting. Okay?”

Following Ginny’s lead, Hermione smiled wide, nodding in agreement.

“I look forward to it!” Hermione spoke, standing as well.

Ginny laid the flowers on her desk, and turned towards the door, purposely avoiding eye contact with Draco, and sliding by him carefully.

Draco ran his fingers through his platinum locks, looking at Hermione with a raised eyebrow. She was beaming, though her smile became more relaxed as her eyes settled on him. Merlin, she definitely was beautiful, but he knew that if they were going to work together and make some sort of progress, keeping his distance in order to not make this any more painful for her than it already was, was the best route to go.

 

                                                                                          --

Hermione stopped her note taking for a moment, placing her quill down and massaging her right hand gently. They had been steady at it for thirty minutes in complete silence. She liked the fact that they were coming together to help solve a case, however they hadn’t made a dent and they weren’t conversing. She wanted to hear his ideas, and to hear exactly what was going on in that head of his.

“Got anything?” She asked, watching him ease his writing to look at her.

He simply shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head. Hermione waited cautiously for him to respond but was both confused and disappointed when he returned to writing without a peep.

“Is something wrong?”

Draco laid his quill back in the holder, folding his hands on the table as he looked at her sternly.

“I don’t want to be intolerable to you, anymore. So, I’m doing my work with you to show that I’m a team player, but I’m not going to speak.” He insisted. Hermione watched as he went to pick up the quill once more, and with a slight smile on her face, she cocked her head to the side.

“You know you contradicted yourself? Doing your work with me doesn’t make you a team player if you don’t share your input,” She spoke with a slight smirk, but was once again met with silence. Maybe now wasn’t necessarily the time for her to use her intelligence to poke fun at his attempts on trying. As she released her smile, she could feel guilt resonating in the pit of her stomach. “I’m sorry for making you feel bad. It’s just that hearing you say “muggle” and not “Mudblood” is something I must get used to. Then you brought up my parents, and I instantly got defensive because I didn’t know if you were trying to seize the moment to take a jab at them or not.”

“If we’re going to be partners in this, then I want you to know that I’m not that same dumb teenager that hurled slurs at you. I’m not incapable of feelings.” He spoke up. Hermione felt the same energy and passion coming from Draco that she had felt last Valentine’s Day. The silence between them grew as Hermione realized that he was right. If they were going to solve this issue together, they had to not see each other as Gryffindor vs Slytherin, but merely human beings trying to reach a common goal.

Still a bit shocked from his point, Hermione decided to take advantage of the opportunity she had when resting her hand to possibly bring up another topic; one that wasn’t work-related.

“I saw you in here the other day,” said Hermione. “Before this crisis came about.”

Draco, without looking up from his work, decided to mess with the girl a little bit. His intentions weren’t to make her feel bad, but to form some sort of alliance so they could be more relaxed around each other.

“I saw you, too.”

“You did?” Hermione asked, a bit embarrassed. If he saw her, that meant he saw her trying to hide from him, as well. She could feel her ears growing hot, surely turning crimson from her blushing. Draco raised an eyebrow, looking up from his work to keep this going as long as he could.

“Yup.” He smirked.

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” She asked, reaching for her coffee.

Draco tried to think of something to reply with but couldn’t. He watched as she took a sip of her latte, a milk mustache appearing on her upper lip. Feeling completely tickled, Draco bit his lower lip in an attempt to stifle a laugh but giving in as it came from within him. Hermione became completely alert, curious as to why he was laughing. She watched other patrons turning to them, some in annoyance, and some giggling as well.

“What is it? What? Draco!” Hermione spoke, desperately trying to hold his attention.

“I didn’t- HAHA – And you’ve got- HAHA!”

“Coherent sentences, please!” She urged.

Draco settled his laughter down to a giggle, and soon a breathless snicker. He picked up his napkin, reaching over the table to wipe her upper lip, showing Hermione what she had sported on her face.

“Is that what was funny to you,” She asked, trying her best to contain a laugh, herself. Instead, she allowed herself to smile at the small incident. “Are you twelve?”

“What’s funny is that I didn’t see you the other day,” He smirked. “The mustache was just the icing on the cake.”

Hermione scoffed, tossing her napkin at him with a grin.

“You tricked me.” Hermione giggled.

“I guess now we’re even.” He smiled, looking up at her. Hermione couldn’t bring herself to take her eyes away from his. She found herself silently exploring the colors within, as his laugh remained in her head like an enchanting symphony. It was probably the best thing she had ever heard.

A light clanking sound hit their porcelain saucers, causing them to look down in curiosity. In hot pink coloring spelled the word, “LOVE” on two heart shaped cookies. Hermione couldn’t help but think of the employee who walked around to each of the patrons the day she saw Draco and Agatha together. Now, instead of Draco’s laugh, all she could hear were the woman’s gentle words, “Take a chance, this holiday.”

Would it be so mad if she did?

Yet, she wasn’t sure if that chance would come so soon.

She watched as Draco’s face froze. What a sight, seeing a Malfoy at a loss for words.

“So, uh,” Draco cleared his throat, clearing stunned though trying to retain his professionalism. “Any ideas, yet?”

Hermione looked down at her notes. None of them were any good. She felt that sometimes, the best plans were the ones that weren’t planned out, at all. Though, she knew that in this case, they needed some sort of stability to clean up whatever mess or hoax this could have been.

Then it hit her.

Hermione looked at Draco, a sudden thought trying to come to her, though she didn’t have much leverage.

“Agatha wants us to obliviate them, right?” She asked.

“That’s all she’s set on.”

“Well,” Hermione pondered. “We can’t do that anyway unless we go to them.”

Draco blinked, a bit lost in what Hermione was trying to conjure.

“What are you thinking?”

“How do we know for sure if this is true and not a scheme?”

Suddenly, like lightening hitting him, Draco perked up, staring wide-eyed at what he assumed Hermione was suggesting. 

“In other words, before we can even focus on how to maintain our secrecy, we need to figure out if it’s worth obliviating at all?" Draco asked.

“Exactly,” Hermione nodded. “Then it wouldn’t be an improper use of magic on muggles.”

“I get where you’re going with this, now.”

“It’s not where I’m going,” Hermione spoke, ruffling through the newspapers and turning to the main article. Her eyes scanned the page momentarily before turning it to Draco and then pointing at the black and white photograph of the orphanage. “It’s where _we’re_ going.”

“1452 Langbury Street, London. Muldoon’s Girls Orphanage.”


	5. Chapter 5

_A dark thunder brewed above her as the sky shifted in ominous swirls. In the distance, Hermione could see a large, gray house sitting atop a hill. Hermione could feel her heart racing as she nearly floated towards the manor._

_Malfoy Manor._

_She blinked, suddenly appearing at the steps of the door as a strong gust of wind nearly shifted her being. She looked down at herself, curious as to why she were so cold, and saw the familiar Yule Ball dress she had stowed away in her closet from long ago. Though she were wearing it, Hermione knew that she was no longer fourteen. She raised a fist to attempt to knock on the door but stopped upon hearing a more intrusive knocking. The bangs sounded like they were all around her; even inside her head._

_Shaky hands lifted themselves to her ears, covering them tightly to drown out the sound, but to no avail. She looked to sky, wondering if for some reason, the thunder had continued to erupt above her, though coming into contact with the gray, yet calm sky._

_But how?_

_Hermione turned back to Malfoy Manor, the large castle-like address suddenly dimming from her vision as the knocking ensued._

_“Wait!” She called out, unsure what she was really trying to get to cease._

Hermione sat up in her bed, a slight headache from the sudden movement as she heard the knocking continue. She glanced at the clock, seeing the time: 2:23 AM. Who in Merlin’s beard would be at her door at this hour? It didn’t make sense.

Hermione hopped to her feet, feeling the cold beneath her as she quickly shuffled to her living room. She looked for anything she could use to defend himself. Clearly anyone who came at this hour was no friend or familiar face. She quickly and quietly looked around, settling on a long-forgotten hammer that was nearly too heavy for her to even lift, let alone swing.

Hermione positioned herself by the door, soon hearing what sounded like sobbing. Hermione furrowed her brow, now even more scared than before. This was the type of thing she used to see in movies when she were younger.

“Who is it?” Hermione called. She couldn’t fake her absence and let the knocking continue. Whoever it was knew she was home.

“It’s me!” Called out a solemn, shaky voice.

Lowering her hammer, Hermione opened the door, seeing a teary-eyed Ginny standing there with a duffel bag. Her reddened eyes and nose was a sight Hermione hadn’t seen in quite a while. Hermione, slightly unconvinced, reached towards her friend with her free hand, and smacked her face lightly.

“What in the bloody hell was that for?” Ginny sniffled, holding her cheek.

“If you’re Ginny Weasley, what secrets have I told you this week?” Hermione asked, slightly raising her hammer once again.

Ginny blinked, trying to remember and quickly came to.

“That you and Malfoy are working on that thing together.”

Hermione’s eyebrows furrowed, her eyes narrowing.

“Too vague. Anyone can find that out if they work in the Ministry. Give me something else.”

Ginny glanced from Hermione to the hammer, rubbing her eyes.

“Uh, that last year you spent Valentine’s Day in a lift with Malfoy.”

Hermione’s face softened, choosing to believe it was her noble friend, and stepped to the side to let her friend through.

“What in the bloody hell are you doing here at this hour?”

“You’re cursing at me when you’re the one ready to beam my head in with a damn hammer!”

Hermione sighed, leaning it next to the front door as she locked it.

“I’m sorry. It’s just that I became maybe a tiny bit paranoid ever since the case,” Hermione explained. “You could’ve been someone else under the effects of a Polyjuice potion. You can’t blame me!”

Ginny, speechless, walked over to the kitchen table as she dropped her things in the middle of the floor. When Hermione and Ron were together, Ginny always made it her duty to stop by unannounced, though it isn’t like it angered either of them.

“Harry’s hiding something.” Ginny confessed, sitting down at the kitchen table with her head in her hands.

Hermione blinked, still adjusting to the fact that Ginny was in her flat at two in the morning. She imagined that Ginny was exhausted, but Hermione felt as though no one could match her own exhaustion at this very moment. Still, knowing Ginny needed her help, she didn’t mind it at all.

“How did you come to that conclusion?”

“First he comes stumbling in…DRUNK. I ask him, ‘Harry, where have you been?’ All he says is that he’s been out with Ron. Then he zips up his coat pocket and I see something inside. I ask him what’s in his pocket, and he doesn’t show me. It could be anything.”

“What’s really bothering you, though? I feel like this is bad, but something else is wrong.” Hermione spoke.

“I just don’t want Harry and I to end up like you and Ron,” Ginny spoke blatantly. There was a moment of silence between the two girls after she said that. Her words were like ice, both cold and sharp. She knew they weren’t with ill-intent, but much rather a cautionary reaction to their break-up. “No offense.”

Hermione sighed a bit to herself, standing and then placing a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m going to get the couch set up for you.” She knew at this point, the only thing she could surely offer Ginny was a place to stay, especially when words ran dry.

 

                                                                                          --

Impatience overflowed from inside Draco and into his actions as he sat at his desk. He silently debated whether he should have gone to meet the girl, himself, or if he should continue to wait for her to arrive at their original meeting spot. Damnit, why was she late? Draco glanced at the clock on the wall, his feeling of tense subsiding once he realized that the time wasn’t near for her to meet him, at all.

_Damnit._

He had grown used to stopping by to steal her away for lunch at Chance at eleven-fifty-something that he had forgotten that their meet-up time, today, was for twelve-thirty. It was only 12:13.

Minutes felt like hours, and the more he kept thinking about how she wasn’t in his presence, the more he attempted to convince himself that it was because he was both excited and nervous for today’s exploration with her. Standing up, he attempted to look out the window to see traveling witches and wizards all about. He needed something to take his mind off of her absence, and yet, just when he had gotten cozy by his large window, he heard a quick knock on the door.

Turning around, he saw Hermione, slightly disheveled, but no less beautiful. But what mattered most was that she was there.

“What happened?” He asked, leaving the question open for her own interpretation. Frankly, he wasn’t really sure why he asked that question, to begin with. He knew she wasn’t tardy. He looked her over, noticing her coat resting across her forearm while she held a brown paper bag and a cup in her hands.

“What? I’m not late.” She spoke, somewhat breathless. She helped herself to a seat at his desk, and then handed the cup and bag to him.

“What’s this?” He asked, walking over in curiosity. Though, as he neared, he couldn’t deny the smell. A steamy milk chocolate with a hint of peppermint, and a buttery pastry. Draco didn’t want to believe that she took the time out to create such a gesture just for him.

“I wanted to get to you early, so you can have time to eat since we’ll be gone for the rest of the day. Just looking out for my partner.” She shrugged a bit, a slight smile on her face.

Draco felt his belly become warm from her action and forced himself to not smile because of it. She was smart, and dedicated to their cause, but she was also greatly considerate. He didn’t know what to say, at all, but to make conversation out of it.

“You didn’t have to.” He spoke, unsure whether he shouldn’t eat it out of modesty, or eat it out of hunger.

“Please, eat! Today’s probably going to be one big rollercoaster ride.”

Draco raised an eyebrow, sitting at his desk across from her. He watched as she set the meal in front of him, and then thought of what she had said.

“Rollercoaster ride?”

“It’s uh-it’s this thing. It’s really tall and really big, and it takes you really high, up in the air, and then drops you down.”

“Is that what muggles do as some sort of torture?”

Hermione snickered to herself, shaking her head so that her healthy curls bounced with her motion. Clearly, she wasn’t explaining it well enough. If only she had a way of showing him just what she meant. But, that didn’t exactly matter at that moment.

“Just eat, will ya? I’d hate for it to go to waste, especially since I remembered how much you loved them.”

Draco watched the girl, bright-eyed and beautiful in her caring nature. A thought ran across his mind that startled him and was unlike any other. Was she still with Weasley? And if she was, would he feel some sort of way about her kindness, or was it all because the nature of their professional relationship would never peak? Were they destined to going back to being strangers? No matter the scenario that Draco tried to picture, he couldn’t see them being strangers again, unless it was just foolish, wishful, thinking.

 

 

                                                                                          --

To Hermione, the area was slightly familiar to them. She knew the ins and outs of the street, having traveled there often with her family. Fond thoughts and memories of being with them made her a little solemn, despite knowing that they had a task at their hands. She sighed softly, her face unable to hide what she was feeling. Draco, hearing the breath escape the girl’s mouth, turned to her, detecting her sadness.

“What is it?” He asked.

“I just…I remember coming here with my parents.” She spoke, looking up at him. “This was a favorite shopping centre for us. Biscuits and bakeries down the block, costume shops around the corner.”

Draco looked her over. He had seen sadness before, but nothing ever like this, before. But what made it even worse was that he didn’t know how to console her. Or better yet, he didn’t even know if it were his job to console Hermione.

“Have you any idea of where they could be?”

Hermione sighed to herself, not really wanting to share too many details about what occurred to her parents, so she turned her focus to Draco. He was very still, despite showing concern towards her feelings. It was almost unheard of or unlikely, but Hermione forced the idea out of her mind. It wasn’t fair of her to think of Draco as the same annoying school boy who picked on her relentlessly, even when he changed his ways and shut out ‘mudblood’ from his vocabulary, altogether.

“What’s the matter with you?” Hermione asked, watching him glance at her. He hesitated for a brief moment before coming up with something.

“I’m in character.” He whispered. It was true. He was “in character”, yet he wouldn’t dare expose that his sadness made him uncomfortable, at best.

Hermione snickered a bit and tugged on his jacket arm. “If you’re going to try and blend in, you’re going to have to loosen up a bit. You’re too stiff and closed off. Nobody is staring at you and nobody cares about how you look.” She tried to reassure him. She watched as Draco inhaled, trying to relax his chest and his shoulders.

Just as he did so, Hermione analyzed a group of rowdy teenagers walking by, laughing at Draco in his suit. His suit was eccentric, having it come from the wizarding world, though it matched his serious and firm demeanor. The intricate designs of silver woven into the darkness was eye-catching, to say the least.

“Get a look at this, boys,” The leader spoke. “He looks like a fashionable version of Beetlejuice.”

“Beetle,” Draco snarled, looking at the boys. “I dare you to say it again!”

Hermione watched as Draco reached into his inner jacket pocket, attempting to retrieve his wand, though Hermione stopped him as she gripped his free hand.

“Just leave it alone.” She spoke, trying to pull him away from the boys as a crowd began to gather.

“I’m not going to let them talk to me like that. I’ll show them.”

“We don’t need to blow our cover.” Hermione whispered close to him. “If you try to show them what you’re made of, you’ll end up compromising our whole plan.”

Draco huffed, turning away from them as they erupted in laughter, walking from him. He glanced down at Hermione, furious with what had just occurred.  

“Fine,” he gave in. “Let’s just go.”

“I need to find a phone booth, first. I have to make sure we can actually meet with them today,” She spoke, searching around. Her eyes landed to one across the street. “Come on!” She called, jogging across the street. Making it, she turned around seeing Draco nearly get hit by two cars as he tried to follow suit.

“Do muggles not have crosswalks or something?” He spat, looking around. Hermione sighed a bit. She knew he wasn’t having a good time, but what mattered to her was that he came, although he wasn’t familiar with the muggle world or their customs. She could’ve very easily gone by herself, but she needed him.

To help her obliviate of course…

Entering the phone booth, Hermione dialed the number to the orphanage. After many rings, Hermione thought her best bet would be to hang up the phone and call back later but stopped once hearing a woman answer the phone shakily.

“Muldoon’s Girl’s Orphanage. This is Sister Mary.” The soft Irish accent called, meeting Hermione’s ears.

Hermione smiled, attempting to make the phone call sound as genuine as possible as she began to dive into her plan.

“Good afternoon, my name is…Jane…Highwater. I was calling to see if it were possible for me to come in, so I can meet with one of the children in your care. I saw the article in the paper about her and-”

“Look, if you want to see the child, you have to spit it out, so I can tell you quickly that we are no longer accepting any press. Now good day to you, ma’am.”

“Wait! Wait!” Hermione called out. Quickly, she began to search for a way to keep the nun engaged and trusted. She looked around the phone booth as if the answers were right in there with her, and turned around, seeing Draco guarding the phone booth diligently, occasionally looking at her to assure that Hermione was safe.

“Go on.” Sister Mary spoke, giving Hermione the chance to explain.

“I’m not with the press,” Hermione started. Draco turned around, not hearing her but curious about what was going on in there. As his eyes met hers, a new plan suddenly kicked into effect for them. “I’ve come for something else.”

                                                                                                         --

 

Draco watched from the outside as Hermione spoke, looking around the phone booth, then to him, and then turning around to finish her conversation. Whatever it was, Hermione seemed to be getting somewhere, and hopefully somewhere good. Though, with the moments left to himself, he did find the time to analyze the muggles passing by. They were dressed so…oddly. Their pants, their clothing, and their hair? Rainbow colors and such? How was this allowed? He even watched as they spoke to others on what looked to be small, miniature phones, similar to what Hermione was talking on. What was going on in this world? There were such insane differences.

Draco watched as a figure out the corner of his eye began approaching him. He could feel his heart beating faster as he neared, a white and orange kind of stick poking out of the older gentleman’s mouth.

“Hey fella, you got a light?” He looked Draco up and down.

“A light?” Draco asked.

“Well-dressed fella like you, I thought you’d be the type to.”

“I don’t think I have a light.” Draco slightly questioned himself.

The man looked Draco up and down, shaking his head as he walked away.

“You coulda just said, ‘no’, bugger.”

Draco had never experienced culture shock before, so being put forth into this type of world with no idea of what their language, customs, or practices were, clearly freaked him out. Then, almost like clockwork, the door to the phone booth clicked open behind him. He could see Hermione, her face full of ambition and success.

“Good news,” She grinned up at him, her brown eyes twinkling. “We can go to the orphanage today!”

“Perfect, so what time are we going?”

“Now,” Hermione spoke, walking to the corner of the street and throwing her hand out, attempting to hail a taxi. “But there’s just one minor detail.”

“And that is?” He asked, walking towards her as he noticed her odd position.

“We’re husband and wife.”


	6. Chapter 6

The silence between the two partners was deafening. Hermione glanced at Draco, seeing a focused expression on his face to counter her anxious one. She looked at the cab driver who was focused on the road and leaned forward.

“How much farther?”

“We’re in the area. Just sit back, won’t ya? We’re close.” He spoke, then reaching to the radio to turn the volume up to an audible, but not obnoxious level. This caused Draco to jump at the sound, something also unfamiliar to him.

“What’s that sound?” Draco asked, clutching his ears from shock.

“Don’t tell me ya never heard of Michael Jackson. I find his songs a real _Thriller_.” He joked, causing Hermione to chuckle nervously to not appear too stiff or unusual.

Hermione turned to Draco. “Are you mad about the whole husband and wife thing?”

“No, I’m just surprised that we couldn’t go in any other way.”

“They wouldn’t allow press,” Hermione insisted in slight annoyance. “This was the only way.”

“But then do we have to actually…you know…”

“Get married? Of course not.” She smirked, shaking her head nervously at the assumption.

“I didn’t mean that,” Draco spoke, looking her over, a bit curious as to why she would have gone that route. “I meant adopt.”

Hermione could feel her cheeks burning from the embarrassment, and sighed, tucking some hair behind her ear.

“I’m still working on a plan for that as we speak. The most important thing is that we make sure it’s real.”

“Blimey,” The cab drive spoke, looking at the two of them in his rearview mirror. “You’re cops, aren’t you?”

Hermione and Draco looked at each other, attempting to keep the rouse going.

“Will a free ride hold your secrecy?” Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow.

The cabbie pulled in front of the orphanage, discounting his ride instead of letting them off free. There, before the large building, Hermione and Draco stood, staring up at the structure and the name in beautiful metal cursive on the door.

 

                                                            **Muldoon’s Girl’s Orphanage**

**Est. 1912**

“Shall we go in?” Hermione asked, beginning to walk ahead of Draco, her natural ambition setting in upon realizing that they were so close to so many answers.

“Wait,” Draco whispered, walking towards her, and quickly taking her hand in his. “We have to make this as real as possible, right?”

Hermione could feel her heart thumping so hard in her chest that she was almost certain Draco could hear the rhythm. His hands were remarkably soft and warm; the perfect combination for a cold, Winter day. Walking inside the orphanage, they were met with an older woman in navy blue garment who wore both shyness and wonder on her face at the couple.

“Mrs. Highwater, I presume?” She asked.

Hermione, still holding onto Draco’s hand, smiled widely.

“It’s lovely to meet you,” She poke. Hermione turned her attention to Draco who had a soft, professional smile on his face. “This is my husband, Cooper.”

“Charmed.” Draco nodded. “You have a lovely organization.”

The nun giggled a bit, shooing Draco’s compliment away.

“We try to do our best around here for our girls. We feel that everyone deserves a second chance at love and family.”

Draco and Hermione looked at each other, both acting very excited to be in her presence, though it were all for the image.

“We’re just grateful to be here,” Hermione mentioned. “Aren’t we?”

“Starting a family of our own has been a dream.” Draco backed her up, growing slightly tired of the conversation already, and more willing to get into details about the child.

“Children are a blessing,” The nun reassured. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to see you in my office for just a moment.”

The nun motioned for the duo to follow her as they walked throughout the halls. To Hermione, the elegance and aged grandeur of the architecture made her think of Hogwarts. She wondered just how many girls were waiting for families of their own. Though, as they walked, Hermione knew beauty wasn’t the only thing she had to be weary of. All along the halls were lined with newspaper clippings about how the orphanage was successful, though they were from the 50s. In another frame on the wall were Christmas photos and plenty of other accomplishments, though none appeared to be recent. She even saw a single photograph of a woman in business attire, staring at the two of them, blankly with a slight smile on her face. Hermione wasn’t quite used to seeing photographs that weren’t enchanted, but she could clearly see sadness within the young woman. Below the photograph was her name, Lourdes Powell, and that was all. Something about the way in which the woman appeared through the picture made her feel very uneasy.

The three adults made their way into a small, shabby-looking office, to both Hermione and Draco’s surprise. It almost felt surreal. On the outside were the finest of furniture and stepping into Sister Mary’s office, you’d think the entire building were eroded.

What was going on?

“Would you like something to drink?” She offered, watching closely as the two sat in the chairs on the opposite side of her desk.

“Oh no, I’m fine,” Hermione spoke, turning to Draco. “Draco, would you like something?”

Draco blinked at her, a bit panicked at first but then laughing it off as he turned to Sister Mary.

“Draco?” She asked, looking at Hermione.

Cursing inside, Hermione tried to quickly clean it up.

“Yes, that’s my nickname for him. Ever since I met him, he had such a distinguished and powerful personality, like a dragon. So rather than call him dragon, I call him Draco. Which is Latin for dragon.”

The nun, seemingly feeling off about the couple, soon smiled as she heard the reasoning.

“I can tell! He has the personality of someone who is very established and successful, which brings me to my next question,” Sister Mary explained, sitting down carefully. “Why would two successful people want to start a family? Wouldn’t you feel that children would get in the way of your work or your time?”

“We have all the time in the world.” Draco spoke with a slight sigh.

“Yes,” Chimed Hermione. “Our work is important to us, but not at the cost of a family. Work can fill a temporary void, but not like a child.”

“So, you want a child to fill a void?” Sister Mary asked.

“No, we want a child so that we can give them everything we didn’t have.” Hermione spoke.

“So you want to raise a materialistic child?”

“Certainly not!”

Draco could feel something wrong brewing in the pit of his stomach and decided to look down at her messy desk. There were papers sprawled all over with information such as the orphanage’s deficit, budgeting papers, and much more. It all started to make sense to him, now.

“I would just like to know why you two were the only ones who wanted to genuinely look into adopting the child from the papers?”

“Well, if I’m not mistaken, she’s the youngest child you have, and we were looking to maybe see if she fit our personality types well.” Hermione spoke.

“And not just that, it’s because of article.” Draco spoke.

“Excuse me?” Sister Mary blinked, almost in shock.

“Honey,” Hermione spoke, her voice low and annoyed as she glared at Draco.

“What? Let’s be honest, here,” Draco snapped a bit. He was growing tired of the muggle way Hermione was handling things. Why did she have to be charmed in order to receive information. At this rate, if they said one thing wrong, Sister Mary had the power to turn the conversation in a difficult direction, which would leave them back at square one. “You called the press for one reason and one reason only. For compensation.”

Sister Mary stayed quiet, her eyes only on Draco’s. Draco stood up, walking around the room to see the different photographs hanging on the walls. They were all girls of the orphanage, doing various activities like singing in the choir, playing sports, and attending what appeared to be church services, from what Hermione could see.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I know what I saw!” She insisted harshly.

“Face it, you’re a fraud,” Draco spat. “Your orphanage is on the brink of a complete shutdown, and you’re running out of money. The outside of the orphanage is exquisite but does not match the inside. You wanted to expose the girl, but when realizing no one would believe you or take on your claims, you decided to keep her a secret from the world. No one could take your gem. Your ticket to fame.”

“Draco.” Hermione called, attempting to once again silence him, but to no avail.

The sister looked back and forth at the two of them, her eyes widening.

“Who _are_ you people?”

Hermione glanced at Draco and decided that there was no use in following their plan any further. They were in the orphanage, and that’s all that mattered. From outside at the nearby window, Hermione stood up, walking to see that many of the girls were outside, playing, under supervision of two of the nuns.

“They’re outside,” Hermione spoke. “Which one is the girl?”

“She’s not outside. She’s in her room. We haven’t let her mingle with any of the other girls since it happened.”

Hermione turned around in disgust to face the nun.

“Take us.”

“And why should I?”

Hermione took out her wand, waving it once to allow the door to open on its own.

“Any more questions?”

The three adults walked through the long corridor, reaching one of the closed rooms. The nun fumbled with her many keys, as the two of them simply watched. Either one of them could have unlocked the door, but the fact that she had kept a small child locked away like some sort of prize, was beyond shocking and disgraceful.

After some time, the nun opened the door, stepping inside and staring at the child.

“DeeDee, there’s someone here to see you.” The nun spoke, a slight tremble in her voice. Draco and Hermione stood outside in the hall, nearly frozen with not exactly fear, but inquisition. It was hard to believe that they had finally made it.

Hermione was the first to step inside, her heart pounding with Draco following close behind her. There, seated on the floor with building blocks all around her, was a small girl, her hair silver and in beautiful, loose curls with the most innocent eyes as she stared up at Hermione and Draco.

“Hi, DeeDee.” Hermione smiled, bending down carefully to see the shy girl. Though she didn’t verbally respond to Hermione, her features softened when she noticed Hermione’s energy.

“She’s…small.” Draco remarked, standing nearby Sister Mary, just in case she attempted to run and fetch the other nuns to alert the authorities.

“She’s three.” Hermione smirked to herself, giving reasoning behind her size. Hermione positioned herself near her on the floor beside the child as she began to play with the blocks.

“Do you know where she came from? How was she brought here?” Draco asked, his wand at the ready.

“I don’t know. Three years ago, a woman with long, dark, and white hair came in and dropped the child off in May of 1998. She was distraught. Told us to keep the baby well. We barely know when her birthday was, but her birthday must be around February. That’s when this all started.”

Hermione noticed the time frame and turned around to look up at Malfoy.

“May…” She spoke. “That was the battle.”

Something twinged in Draco’s mind, something familiar about the woman’s context. The baby was brought over by a woman with dark and white hair? His mother had dark and white hair… And why was the baby brought over after the war? Where were her parents? _Who_ were her parents?

“What are you two going to do?” The sister spoke, looking at them both.

Though Hermione heard the woman, she didn’t care to answer her. She knew exactly what they’d have to do, but she wouldn’t dare disclose that to her. Nope, not at all. Hermione pulled out her wand, making one of the blocks levitate in the air, gaining DeeDee’s interest. DeeDee exposed a toothy grin when realizing that it was all from Hermione’s doing, and went to pick up one of the blocks. Hermione watched as DeeDee made the block in her hand levitate on her own.

“Draco look!” She called, grasping for his attention.

Draco studied the girl, still lost in thought while trying to process everything.

“What’s her full name?” He asked lowly.

“We don’t have a last name for her, but her first name was Delphini. We changed it and called her Delilah for the longest because the kids could barely pronounce it. Hell, we could barely pronounce it, at first.”

Draco could feel his stomach sinking at the name. He had heard it long before.

From his mother.

 “We’ll take her.” Draco spoke, feeling suddenly stifled.

“It’s not that easy, pal,” The nun spoke. “We need our compensation for the girl.”

“Not a problem. Let’s discuss this in your office.” Draco spoke, turning the nun around to pretend to lead her out of the door before whispering “Obliviate” with his wand at the back of her head. Draco looked at Hermione and Delphini, urging for them to them. Hermione looked at the girl.

“It’s going to be okay. Just follow us. We won’t hurt you.”

“Promith?” The young girl spoke in her soft voice.

“I promise.” Hermione nodded. The girl stopped playing with her blocks, allowing Hermione to pick her up.

As they all followed behind Sister Mary, Draco stepped ahead of Hermione and the toddler. Silently, he withdrew his wand, and held it up at the back of the nun’s head.

“Obliviate,” He whispered.

Soon after, almost right on cue, Sister Mary turned around to face Hermione, Draco, and Delphini. She blinked, looking at all three of them in confusion.

“I’m sorry, who are you and what are you here for?”

Draco turned around to look at Hermione and Delphini, and then back at the nun.

“You were leading us to see the girls. We inquired about the adoption?”

The nun blinked, a nervous smile appearing on her face.

“Forgive me, I’ve been feeling off, lately. You have a beautiful family, though. Your daughter has your hair, I must say.” The nun laughed, turning away to go into her office with Draco following behind her.

He mouthed the words to Hermione to obliviate the rest of the orphanage, and then turned away to finish getting rid of all traces of Delphini from the premises.

Hermione could feel herself getting increasingly anxious at the thought of obliviating people. In her year working there, she never had to obliviate _anyone_ , and she was thankful for that. Her work always involved written explanations for magical activity; nothing physical.

Hermione crept through the halls, her stomach in knots as Delphini remained quiet, playing with her, and slightly obstructing her vision with her tendrils, but that was the least of her worries. There was a door open ajar, leading to the outside of the courtyard where the girls all played together. Hermione snuck out, her wand drawn, first, she obliviated the two nuns of Delphini, and then, in a secret bush, she obliviated all six orphans. As she finished, she concealed her wand, retreating into the building to find Draco.

 

 

                                                                                          --

Hermione felt as though she wasn’t even walking, but merely floating by and through the streets. It seemed almost surreal to have solved this case, let alone with Draco as her right hand. But what did that make of them from here on out? Hermione pushed the doors open to Chance, seizing the opportunity to be the only patron that night. The workers gasped at the sight of her, leaning over the countertop.

“You’re Hermione Granger! You brought the child back from the muggle world!”

Hermione smirked a bit, not really in the mood to fawn over her own victories. Though, she didn’t want to be rude.

“Can I please have a small hot chocolate? Peppermint stick?” She asked.

She heard the chime from the shop’s doorbell and turned around, seeing Draco entering as well.

The workers gasped one more time, in complete shock that they were both there at the same time. Though, the duo didn’t pay much attention to the workers, but rather, to each other. Hermione didn’t know what exactly came over her, but all she wanted to do in that moment, was hug Draco.

And so she did.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This particular chapter contains very slight character spoilers regarding 'Delphini' from "Harry Potter and the Cursed Child". However, it does NOT follow the plot of the aforementioned novel/play. Enjoy...
> 
>  
> 
> -T

_June 1992_

_Malfoy Manor_

_Home sweet home! Draco stepped inside his large home, taking a deep breath inside, feeling joyous. It felt great to be at Hogwarts all those months, but it felt even better to be home. He loved Hogwarts’ castle, but preferred to spend warm, beautiful summers in his own castle, especially as he got older._

_“How do you feel?” Lucius asked, looking down at his bright child._

_“It feels great to be home.” Draco grinned, looking around._

_“I saved all your letters,” Narcissa exclaimed, rushing to a lavender colored box located on the dining room table. “All fifty of them.”_

_Draco couldn’t help but blush a little bit. Had he written that much? He could’ve sworn it was less. Still, it didn’t matter. He was home._

_“Nonsense, Narcissa,” Lucius spoke, clearly undermining her excitement. “Tell me about your classmates. Particularly, Mr. Potter.”_

_Draco could feel his happiness grow dim. All year long, everything revolved around Harry Potter. He wanted a break from all of that, and he especially didn’t want to hear about it in his safe space._

_“What do you want to know?” Draco asked, his voice low and now timid. His father casually led him to seats at the dining table, with Narcissa just as intrigued and serious as Lucius was._

_“Everything.” Narcissa chimed, casually pushing his box of letters aside. Draco could feel a slight burning in his chest. He was having such a great time enjoying his home’s atmosphere, which soon turned one-sided; Potter-sided._

_“Uhm, well, he has the scar. It’s actually there. And he hangs out with two friends. Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger.”_

_“Granger, Granger…that’s not a name I’m familiar with,” Lucius began to think before turning to Narcissa for confirmation. She shook her head, following suit. “Half-blood?”_

_“Muggle.” Draco gulped, not sure of his parent’s reaction._

_The room got quiet at Draco’s statement as the couple looked at each other, a mix of disgust and disarray worn on their faces._

_“They just won’t stop.” Lucius spat, full of force and fury. “Soon all of our world will be filled with filthy mudbloods. We are doomed to extinction!”_

_“She’s a what?” Draco asked, cocking his head to the side._

_“A mudblood, Draco,” Narcissa began to explain. “She’s not like us. She’s impure.”_

_“I mean, she’s annoying but that’s about it. She’s a brilliant witch. The best in our year! But I don’t talk to her because…well, I haven’t really gotten the chance to, really.”_

_“You dare speak kindly of a mudblood in our house?” Lucius raised his voice, his cold and dark eyes peering at his son. The look of fright on Draco’s face was enough for him. He got what he wanted._

_“Calm, Lucius,” Narcissa placed a hand to mediate the situation. “He does not know.”_

_Thoroughly confused, he could feel his heart racing from his father’s anger. He rarely ever saw him be angry. Well…he never really saw anger towards him, at least. It terrified him greatly. And all because of Hermione?_

_“You must promise to never speak of her name again in this household. Never.”_

_That statement pained him. From this point on, he could no longer speak of the curly haired brunette to his family. This hurt, especially when Draco couldn’t get the thought of how pretty she was out of his mind. He barely thought of her as the year ended, as he knew they’d have six more to spend annoying each other. Though, now knowing how his father reacted to her heritage, it made him even more curious about her. The best, most brilliant witch of their year wasn’t even born to magical parents. While his family seemed disgusted, it intrigued him. Little did they know that their prejudice would soon become Draco’s driving force behind his curiosity to the witch._

 

                                                                                          --

 

Draco couldn’t remember the last time he had visited his childhood home. When he was younger, it was his home, but as an adult, Draco recalled it to be nothing more than a house. The whole way there, Draco could only think of yesterday’s events. How he and Hermione saved Delphini from public muggle scrutiny and the feeling of her warm embrace after work, a feeling he was holding onto as long as possible. Her partnership meant a lot to him, more than he allowed himself to admit. Still, things weren’t exactly adding up like they should.

Draco raised a fist to the front door, banging three times, which would hopefully be enough to be heard by either his parents or an elf. He hated that his parents hadn’t caught up to more current times by freeing the elf, especially since he wasn’t a baby any more, but he figured that they somehow needed the help. After some time, Draco watched the door open slowly, his mother’s stern face greeting his.

“Son,” She spoke, excitement and shock on her face as she peered at him. From the side of the house, behind the front door, Lucius came forth, his hands behind his back as he eyed his son. “Why didn’t you come in through Floo Network?”

“It’s not my house.” He answered curtly.

“Oh, don’t be silly, now,” Narcissa spoke. “This will always be your house. And when you get married, this will be your house once again.”

Merlin, he hated being reminded of his rather large inheritance. Stepping to the side, Narcissa nearly pulled Draco in. The house was as he left it; cold, dreary, and dark. You’d think these people would have heard of light, by now.

Draco looked at his father, nodding in his direction before turning back to his mother. He didn’t want to fully acknowledge his father, especially after the mess that he has been put through.

“What brings you over,” Narcissa asked, taking Draco’s hand. The vibe he received from her grip was far different from Hermione’s when he had held it. His mother’s hands were cold, dry, and held a powerful clutch; one that nearly suffocated him. Hermione’s were soft, delicate, and welcoming. “Hopefully you’ve come with news about a girl?”

“Ah yes,” Lucius spoke, a sly smile curling on his face. “Have things sped along with _that Granger girl_?”

That Granger girl. Draco knew his father had never changed, and if he had ever learned about his fondness for Hermione, he knew that would be the end of their relationship. Or whatever was left of it.

“It was her brilliant plan that led us into the orphanage.”

“Well then I suppose she can take her brilliance elsewhere now that you two won’t ever intersect, right?” Lucius asked, a careful expression on his face as he studied Draco. Draco didn’t like it, though. He didn’t like when his father tried to pry and push his own feelings onto his son. It wasn’t fair, and it brought back many painful childhood memories.

Draco dared not respond. He didn’t come to argue or hear his father preach old tales about muggles, and especially not Hermione. He came wanting answers.

“The press didn’t release the name of the baby,” Draco spoke, looking at his mother now.

“Well I suppose it’s best, you know? For the child’s sake.” Narcissa spoke, attempting to let the situation cease with little interest.

“I guess everything is always done for the child’s sake.” Draco sneered, eyeing his mother.

“Draco what is the matter with you? Lucius, see how he’s looking at me?”

“The woman at the orphanage says that in May of 1998, a woman with black and white hair dropped the baby off. A girl. Her name is Delphini,” Draco spoke. He saw his mother’s expression go from careless to fully aware. “Mother, where have I heard that name?”

“How dare you? Coming into our house questioning us, especially your mother?” Lucius snapped. Yet, this wasn’t his usual anger or frustration. This, Draco noticed, was fear.

“Who are her parents?” Draco asked, ignoring his father completely.

Narcissa debated whether to explain it to her son or not, but she knew she had been found out. The older woman lowered her head, obviously defeated from the question. She knew that there would be no reason to continue concealing the secret. She lifted her head shamefully, looking into her son’s eyes.

“Delphini is your cousin. She’s the daughter of Bellatrix and …Lord Voldemort.”

Draco was met with silence from both his parents as her response resonated deeply within him. He couldn’t believe that his mother would sacrifice the privacy of their world, and then in turn try to cover it from him for three years. Was he still a stupid child in their eyes? Soon, every ounce of criticism they spoke against him, and every nudge of power didn’t make sense in comparison to a secret like this.

Draco raised up from his seat, walking towards the door.

“Draco, where are you going?”

“Draco, please don’t go. Let us explain.”

Draco stopped at the door, an irrevocable feeling of dread washing over him at the discovery. He couldn’t find the strength to do anything, not even tell his parents “good-bye”. There was nothing good about this situation. There was nothing he could possibly make of this situation. Not now. Not around them. The only thing that made the slightest bit of sense was that he needed to see Hermione.

 

                                                                                          --

The street was desolate and cold, which appeared to be the norm, lately. Nothing but snow, and ice, and dark skies threatening more flurries. Yet, Hermione didn’t mind. To her, this type of weather smelled like hot chocolate with peppermint sticks, and a nice cup of coffee, with buttery croissants. She didn’t take embarrassment in her action when she saw Draco at Chance, last night, but she didn’t question it either. There wasn’t any harm done between them.

Hermione looked around, wondering whether to head back home, stop for a bite in hopes of seeing Draco, or better yet, travel to Hogsmeade for more exciting fun. She looked around for a moment, her eyes landing on what appeared to be a familiar silhouette in the distance, making its way into the jewelry shop. Hermione squinted, seeing round spectacles on the person, and became increasingly aware of who it was.

She crossed the streets, maintaining her inconspicuous persona as she walked towards the store Harry was entering.

Magnificent Jewels.

She didn’t forget the way Ginny felt about him just a few nights ago, and when realizing that it wasn’t resolved yet, because she was still camping out in Hermione’s apartment, she grew even more concerned for the couple.

Hermione peered into the window, watching as Harry met with the store owner, taking out a piece of paper from his pocket, and showing it to him. Could that have been the object Harry was hiding from Ginny? A piece of paper? Really?

Hermione continued her “investigation” but stopped once she felt a hand touch her shoulder.

Draco?

She jumped, turning around, and seeing Ron standing there, a blank, confused expression on his face. She looked him over. He had grown some facial hair during their departure and stood just as tall and broad as when she left him. Unlike being around Draco, she didn’t feel that joy around Ron. Not since everything that happened. She had always wondered what it would be like if she were to run into Ron after their breakup, but never got far. The thought was never that relevant to her.

“What are you doing here?” They asked each other in unison, though Hermione realized her fault immediately after asking. Wherever Harry was, Ron was there, too.

“I’m here with Harry.” Ron spoke curtly, attempting to push past the woman to go inside.

“What is he doing and why is he being so secretive with Ginny?”

“Ask for yourself, nosy.” Ron sneered as he walked inside while Hermione remained outside, arguing with herself. She could go in and confront Harry, or she could leave, and have Harry wondering why she were spying on him to begin with. Hermione groaned to herself, pushing the doors open and making herself known to the shop keeper and Harry.

“Hermione,” Harry spoke, a slight grin on his face. “I was just-”

“What’s going on with you and Ginny?” She demanded, folding her arms in front of her chest.

“You think you can go and rescue a witch from the muggle world and then go around entitled to answers,” Ron snickered. “You’re not an auror.”

“I wasn’t talking to you, now was I?” Hermione snapped back, then turning all her attention to Harry, who grinned nervously, holding up a ring in his hand.

“Believe it or not, but I can’t keep a secret. I was trying to figure out how to propose to Ginny.”

“Pr-propose?” Hermione blinked, looking at Harry.

“Ever heard of it?” Harry joked.

Hermione’s lips curled upward as she threw her hands around Harry’s neck.

“Oh, my goodness! I’m so sorry! I’m so happy for you! When are you going to propose?”

“As soon as I can get her out of your apartment, that’s for sure.” Harry spoke.

The shopkeeper cleared his throat, looking at all three of them.

“The famous trio back together again. I don’t know whether to be excited or to watch out,” He peered over the three of them, his eyes landing back on the ring in Harry’s possession. “Will the ring do or not?”

“Uh, yes,” Harry nodded. “Just the personal touches.”

“Follow me.” He spoke, giving one last glare to all of them before bringing Harry to the back with him, leaving the departed to converse amongst themselves.

“So, I guess you knew this whole time, huh?” Hermione asked, looking at Ron.

“Well I mean, I _am_ his best friend, after all.”

“Ron, stop it,” Hermione spoke tiredly. “I don’t want us to keep fighting, even after we broke up. Your sister, who has been staying at _my_ apartment, is getting married to Harry, who is best friends with both of us. We have to at least get along somehow.”

“I wouldn’t want to, regardless. I can’t trust you.”

“I’m not asking you to trust me, I’m asking you to act like a civilized being.” Hermione’s eyebrow furrowed. Realizing that arguing would no longer, or ever, work on Ron, Hermione rubbed her temples, and turned her attention to the rings. The glistening diamonds and gems temporarily took her mind off the headache Ron was giving her.

“So which one is Harry getting Ginny?” She asked. Ron leaned on the glass to show her, scanning the different jeweled pieces to try and find one similar to Harry’s picking.

“Something or another. He’s going to get it personalized with their initials. He’s doing her initial with his handwriting, and his initial with her handwriting.”

“That’s sweet,” Hermione spoke, straightening up and looking at him. “But, my main question is, why did he come home drunk that one night? It wasn’t a very good look on Harry’s part.”

“My best friend just told me he’s marrying my sister. You expect me to not treat him to a few butter beers? I just didn’t expect for Ginny to react the way she did.”

Hermione lowered her head a moment and turned her attention back to Ron. She remembered all the times she thought about being in shops like these, trying out rings and being proposed to. But the more they grew together, the more they outgrew each other. She sighed a bit to herself, and looked out the store window, feeling a presence. There, she saw Draco, peering into the window at them both. What was he doing here? Hermione could feel her heart racing, and she didn’t know why. Why did her heart skip beats just from the sight of Draco, even if it were for just a moment?

Ron, noticing Hermione’s gaze out the window, stopped and turned. The two gents’ eyes met, causing Draco to instantly turn away, walking briskly from the shop. Inside the store, Hermione could feel the presence change. Ron turned around, sporting a raised eyebrow, and confusion, as one would expect.

“What the hell was that all about?”

 

                                                                                          --

 

 

The more Draco tried to convince himself that there could’ve been a logical explanation for why Ron and Hermione were together in Magnificent Jewels, the more he angered himself. He didn’t want to believe what he saw, and the fact that Hermione hadn’t come out to offer an explanation made things ten times worst. Yet, when he stopped to think, he realized that she didn’t owe him an explanation, at all. She didn’t owe him anything. She didn’t owe him the time of day because they were partners, and she surely didn’t owe him mutual feelings...

Draco could feel a burning in his chest similar to the one he felt long ago when he first laid eyes on Hermione. He couldn’t explain why suddenly this young woman was the main focal point of his thoughts, or why he admired her rosy cheeks when she blushed and how considerate she was. To him. To someone who was once her tormentor.

Thoughts raged in his mind from when he was younger. He could hear his father preaching at the dinner table to guests.

_“Mudbloods and Purebloods do not mix. We are not meant to genetically coincide. A mudblood can apologize for their dirtiness, but it still won’t erase the fact that they are and always will be beneath Purebloods. They will water down the magical heritage.”_

She wasn’t just some muggle and she wasn’t a slur that crept from his father’s mouth, daily. She was Hermione. Beautiful, intelligent, funny, caring Hermione.

She evidently coincided with Ron Weasley rather well, from the look of things. Years at Hogwarts, he saw the way she looked at Weasley and compared it to how she looked at him. Ah yes, disgust; written all over her face whenever he came around. How could he let his father sway his feelings? Perhaps those years spent bickering and taunting at Hogwarts would soon come back around. Maybe history _did_ repeat itself, after all.

He just wished, somehow, that he would have been more to Hermione than just his partner. Maybe even a friend, at the very least. Hell, he’d even settle for acquaintance.

But why?

What part of him made him silently beg for her presence; To feel the warmth of her hands and have her close to him again, like when she hugged him…for the first, and presumably the last time.

He had been holding off for a little too long, and this situation proved it. Sure, his fondness for Hermione Granger had returned years down the line, but this time, his fondness had turned to admiration…

_Attraction._

The thought ached him as he admitted it to himself. He liked her. He liked Hermione Granger. Not in a school crush way where they pick on each other in class, and not in the same way where he saw her radiant glow in that pink gown as fourth years, but for who she really was beneath the surface.

Following the theme of being honest with himself, Draco had to come to terms with one more discrepancy if he were to continue his analysis of his emotions.

They truly, truly, scared him.


	8. Chapter 8

Hermione walked through the ministry with a heavy heart and equally as heavy thoughts running through her mind. Fletcher had notified her by owl last night of an update on Delphini. Along with the update was the paperwork that needed to be given to the Prime Minister regarding an explanation about their largest case since the Battle of Hogwarts. From inside, Hermione could still smell the dew from outside, nearly tasting the rain in the atmosphere. She loved it and the way the scent lingered within her. It was calming.

“Morning paper, Ms. Granger?” Asked a vendor as he stood in the middle of the bustling grand entrance. Hermione faintly smiled, stretching out her hand to retrieve it. She found it odd that people knew her name and she didn’t know theirs in return. But she understood why.

She looked down at the newspaper, seeing her and Draco plastered on the front. In large, bold text were the words:

 

                                                                           **The Ministry’s Dynamic Duo:**

**Inside Scoop on how**

**Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy **

**went from**

**Hogwarts to Heroes**

 

She stared, forcing herself not to smile when she saw Draco’s awkwardness even through the front page. The moving picture stared back at her with flashes all around them the day they brought Delphini back, who suddenly came into view of the photograph as Fletcher handed her over to the both of them. There she was, just as adorable, and calm in muggles clothing. The world she once knew for the first three years of her life would soon change, if she even remembered it.

Hermione looked at the fine print, noticing Rita’s additional information about the child.

_“Delphini, aged three, was rescued Thursday night by Granger and Malfoy. The duo who were once intolerable enemies during Hogwarts eventually came together despite their differences, to bring one of our own back home. Delphini is currently under care at St. Mungo’s Hospital Wing. Relatives have apparently been found, though no word about their lineage, blood status, or name has been found. Yet, stay tuned with Rita Skeeter, as I dig deeper into this story to get you all the information you need!”_

Hermione folded the paper under her arm, taking in the events that occurred over the weekend. Ginny had finally made it back at home with Harry, no longer available for girl’s night as they “mended” things. Then, Hermione began to wonder how Harry planned on doing that without spilling any sort of secret about him buying her a ring. What explanation could he have possibly given for her to not jinx him, even if it were just for the moment. And yet, that wasn’t the strangest part of her weekend. Ron had noticed the way Hermione looked at Draco that day in the jeweler, and instantly clammed up. She wanted to desperately walk out of the jeweler to go see Draco after noticing the look he had on his face but realized that wouldn’t have been a good idea with Ron’s presence.

Still, she kicked herself for not making the attempt to go.

 

 

                                                                                                         --

The brunette began fastening her hair up in a messy bun as she walked towards her desk, pushing it open and pausing once she saw Draco with his back turned. At the sound of the opening, they both stood startled at each other’s appearance. Draco instantly turned, the object that was once in front of him was now behind him. She was both glad and nervous that he was there, sort of surprised that he would have made the first move after such an odd weekend. As he straightened up, Hermione noticed his hands behind his back, as if he were concealing something. But what?

“Hi.” Hermione blurted out breathlessly, her eyes examining his expressions carefully.

“Hi.” Draco spoke, his face serious and goal driven.

Hermione had grown used to Draco coming in to her office to steal her away for lunch and meetings regarding the case, but not at 8 in the morning. He wanted something…

“I’m surprised to see you so…early.” Hermione spoke, attempting to make conversation, though he didn’t budge. She soon became hyperaware of her appearance, reaching to the bun on her head to let her hair down. Sure, she was hot, but she didn’t want to look disheveled in front of him. Of all people! Reaching up, she forgot that her copy of The Daily Prophet was still tucked underneath her armpit.

“Of course,” Hermione whispered, bending down to pick up the newspaper as she continued to wait for Draco to speak. After getting herself together, Hermione walked over to her desk where Draco was. “Did you see the paper?”

Draco shook his head, his lips pursed shut as though he were a child who hid an inedible object inside.

Hermione smacked the news on her desk, facing it to Draco. “They’re trying to find Delphini’s relatives.”

“That’s idiotic.” Draco spat, his eyes fixated on the picture of the three of them. Hermione paused, wondering if she had heard the blonde correctly.

“What?”

“I said it’s _stupid_.” He repeated, this time more firmly, his voice raising a bit. Hermione struggled to figure out where this sudden attitude had come from. They had gotten along so nicely when doing the investigation. It would have been disheartening to find out that Draco had put his walls back up to shut her out.

“ _Why_ is it stupid?” She asked, matching his tone, now.

“What sense does it make to give a child back to the relatives that had given it away? Why make the child suffer even more?”

“Giving the child a place to live isn’t making the child suffer. Whoever gave her away and to a muggle orphanage wasn’t all that bright, I must say, and I doubt the same coward would care about her enough to come forward to take her back in, anyways. They’re giving her a second chance at a proper life.”

Hermione watched as Draco’s face turned from one of calm to annoyance within seconds.

“Giving her away doesn’t make them a coward.”

“Think about it,” Hermione started. “Giving her away to a muggle orphanage, threatening the privacy and secrecy of the wizarding world, and exposing Delphini to a life of hardships and isolation does. Who does that?”

Draco looked at her in a way that Hermione had once remembered long ago. It was of distaste, and anger. She recalled the famous faces he would give whenever she excelled at something he didn’t, and whenever they exchanged words, or better yet, insults.

“I guess not everyone can be as perfect as you.” He spoke, his tone echoing sarcasm.

Why was he acting like this? Instead, she chose not to ask him. Her eyes lowered to his hands that were still folded behind his back.

“What do you have in your hands, anyway?” She asked, trying to peer behind him so that she could see, though Draco shifted to the side, blocking her from seeing.

“It doesn’t matter.” He spoke, angling himself in different ways to avoid her from retrieving what he was hiding.

“It does to me.” Hermione spoke, eventually tricking Draco and grabbing what he was hiding. Hermione gasped, watching as the top from the cup popped off, the smell of hot chocolate filling her office as the peppermint stick fell out, cracking on the floor. Along with the peppermint stick on the floor was a small puddle of hot chocolate that had spilled from her action.

Draco sighed in annoyance, his full attention turning to Hermione, who looked at him, saddened that she had destroyed his surprise.

“Draco, I’m sorry,” She spoke, though quickly remembering that he was the one who made the gesture. “Thank you. What is this for?”

Draco stood up straight, shaking off some of the hot chocolate that had spilled on his hands.

“It was a ‘congratulations’ present.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow, looking at him, temporarily disregarding the fact that she had wet her office floors.

“What are you congratulating me on?”

Draco debated silently on whether he should tell her what he had thought about congratulating her on, and after a few seconds to himself, he spoke up and out.

“On your engagement.” He shrugged, turning from her and heading to the door.

Hermione stood in shock and confusion at his gesture. What was he even talking about? He sounded mad!

“My engagement?”

“I saw you and Weasley at the jewelers over the weekend, looking at the rings.”

“I saw you, too.” Hermione’s voice was soft and gentle to his assumption. He clearly thought she and Ron were still a couple, causing him to overthink at the sight of them alone in a jewelry store. What else were he to think, even when finding out a year earlier that they were still together. “Though maybe you shouldn’t be so quick to judge a situation that you know nothing about.”

“And maybe you should be upfront about what you want.” Draco snapped.

Hermione sulked in the silence, baffled at what Draco said. Suddenly, it all began to fall together. Now, the forefront of their argument switched from his assumptions to bluntness. Hermione could almost scoff at the hypocrisy. The past few weeks they spent together, Hermione could tell something was there, even though she couldn’t decipher what it was, just yet.

“You’re one to talk. I’ve spent nearly all of Hogwarts trying to figure out that wall you’ve built up. And as soon as a slight misunderstanding comes about, you’re ready to stop trying.”

“What’s the point in trying? There’s no reason to try when I just get let down. I don’t need this to become a cycle. Just let this be the end of it, Granger.”

Hermione frowned at the use of her surname. They had grown substantially over the days they spent together, laughing and talking, and just being what she had considered possible friends.

“Well then what would you have liked me to make clear, Malfoy?” She asked, much emphasis being placed on his last name, now. Yet, she cornered him with the question. He stood frozen, his face not changing the emotion expressed upon it.

“That we were just going to be partners and nothing more… as in friends.”

“I don’t think this is about us just being friends, now is it?”

Hermione instantly stopped talking when she saw Fletcher walking in, just as cheery and peppy that dark morning. Though his demeanor was nothing far from the usual.

“Ah, the dynamic duo,” Fletcher grinned before focusing solely on Hermione. “Did you receive my owl by any chance?”

“I did.” Hermione responded, just as soft as she tried gulping down the lump in her throat. Things seemed to be happening so fast, lately. She wondered how the hell she was going to catch up with life and most importantly, herself.

Fletcher and Hermione watched as Draco shoved his hands deep into the pocket of his gray dress pants, attempting to make his way past Fletcher to leave him and Hermione to talk. Fletcher noticed his standoffish attitude and held up a hand to place on Draco’s shoulder.

“Was I interrupting something?” He asked, looking back and forth between the two.

“No,” Draco quickly responded. The solemn man looked over his shoulder at his beloved, his heart aching with emotions he hadn’t felt in a long time and turned to look Fletcher in his eyes. “Nothing at all.”

 

                                                                                                         --

 

 

A powerful yet relaxing rain hit the windowsill of the pub in Hogsmeade, placing Hermione in a temporary trance. She was tired and full of confusion, replaying over Draco’s words that he spoke to her that morning. Since then, it just didn’t stop raining. Hermione couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it was that she felt about the situation. Was it anger? No. Was it yearning? Possibly. But the one thing she was certain of was that somehow, she felt guilty. She couldn’t help but blame herself for what had occurred. If she had just been honest with Ron from the start, who knew what possibilities could have happened? Maybe this that she was feeling, wouldn’t be present in the way that it was. Maybe it wouldn’t be there at all. What if Ron was her soulmate, and the idea of Draco being her lover was a temporary thing because she wished Ron could have that mystique and chemistry that she and Draco had in the lift that night?

Though Hermione believed she could have done something to ease the tension, she couldn’t find any reason behind why Draco acted the way he did regarding Delphini. The way he reacted, it would make one think he knew more than he let on. Still, Hermione shook off the thought. She didn’t want to start accusing Draco about things just because they had a fight.

Their first fight…

The sound of the pub door ringing open made Hermione’s attention shift. She and Ginny had planned to have dinner to talk about everything that was going on, especially between Harry and the beautiful redhead. Perhaps if Ginny happened to vent about Harry, Hermione would disclose more information to her best girl friend about where things between she and Draco were moving.

Ginny grinned widely, walking over to Hermione who was seated in a corner by herself, saving a seat for her friend. Hermione couldn’t help but smile as she looked at her friend, standing up to greet her with a hug.

“You’ve been out of my apartment for only three days and I miss you terribly.” Hermione confessed with slight loneliness. Ginny squeezed back, smiling from ear to ear as she soon let go, joining Hermione at their round corner table.

“I owe you so much for letting me stay at your place. You want me to pay for your groceries? You know I will.” Ginny pleaded seriously, gratitude emitting from her aura.

“It was no trouble at all,” Hermione spoke, motioning to the beer that she had ordered for Ginny in advance. “I knew you’d have trouble deciding, so I picked for you.”

Ginny smirked, shaking her head.

“Sometimes you know me better than I know myself.” She shook her head, peering at Hermione with the widest grin. Hermione looked her friend over, noticing her glow and cocked her head to the side.

“What’s gotten you so gushy?”

Ginny shrugged modesty, attempting to hide it, though not for long as she brought her left hand to view.

“Harry proposed today! Right when we woke up.”

How ironic. While Hermione was having the most dreadful conversation with Draco, Ginny was being proposed to. Still, even though Hermione wasn’t her best self, she was glad that Ginny and Harry had resolved things. Who better than those two?

“Oh, my goodness!” Hermione exclaimed excitedly. Granted, she knew it were coming, but she didn’t know Harry was trying to do it as soon as possible. She thought he had a big, strategic plan.

“I know, isn’t it lovely,” Ginny smiled, moving her fingers as it glittered in the light. “I knew he was keeping something from me. He just doesn’t know how to keep a secret for the life of him.”

“I’m wishing you both so much love and happiness.” Hermione smiled as she raised her mug. “To love.”

Ginny brought hers up as well, clanking it with Hermione’s and repeating, “To love.”

After both girls took a swig, Ginny couldn’t help but see the tiredness on Hermione’s face.

“Something’s wrong.” Ginny pointed out.

“What? With the beers?” Hermione asked, peering inside the mug with fright.

“Nope,” Ginny shook her head coyly. “ _With you.”_

Hermione tried her best to force a smile to try and throw her friend off her tracks. She didn’t want the reminder of what was going on, though it was hard to forget.

“I’m totally fi-”

“Shut up,” Ginny spoke with a smirk. “You’re not fine, now spill it. I know it has something to do with your partner-in-crime.”

“We got into a stupid fight this morning.”

“I’m not surprised.” Ginny spoke up, smiling slightly at Hermione. While she wasn’t smiling at the fact they fought, she was smiling at something else.

“What do you mean you aren’t surprised?”

“You two both have strong personalities. Both of you can be in charge when things go good, but when things get tough, you’re both fighting for leadership, thinking the other is wrong because your action plans differ. It’s pretty comical, honestly.”

Hermione scoffed, balling up a napkin to playfully toss at Ginny. “Can I finish,” Hermione asked. Once Ginny picked up her mug, Hermione seized the opportunity to speak. “Over the weekend, I saw Ron and Harry in the jewelry shop. I went inside, and while in there, Harry went to the back and left Ron and I by ourselves. Draco was walking by and he saw him and I in the store alone, so he assumed that we were picking out engagement rings. Long story short, he thinks we’re still together.”

Ginny paused for a moment, taking in everything her friend was saying before trying to make the situation a little lighter.

“So, you mean to tell me you knew Harry would propose?”

“Ginny.” Hermione whined, desperately wanting her advice.

“Okay, okay,” Ginny agreed. “Well, why didn’t you tell Draco then and there that you and Ron weren’t together?”

“I was planning on telling Ron about what happened in the lift last year, but then if he saw Draco and I together, he’d think I cheated on him while we were still dating.”

“Regardless of what Ron thinks, he’s going to find out that you spent Valentine’s Day in a lift with Malfoy, and that you have a thing for him, now.”

“I don’t have a _thing_ for him.” Hermione spoke sheepishly, looking away from Ginny momentarily.

“And I have three eyes,” Ginny growled sarcastically. Her tone caught Hermione’s eye as she looked her over. “I just personally think you should tell Ron, as soon as possible. Tell Ron what happened so he can get over it and have closure. It’s only fair to him. And tell Draco how you feel. You can’t keep dodging the facts.”

Hermione knew her friend was right. She couldn’t continue keeping Ron in the dark about what happened. Even though they didn’t work out as a couple, she still deeply cared for him as a friend. She knew that leaving him to think whatever he wanted to think wasn’t fair to him. Yet, Hermione had to face what she felt, first. She fancied him tremendously. No amount of trying to convince herself that she and Ron were soulmates could top how she truly felt about Draco at age fourteen, a year ago, and even today.


	9. Chapter 9

Horrible memories played over in Draco’s head as he sat in his family’s living room. To him, where she sat bore such painful irony. Their sitting room felt so lifeless, and gray, like the majority of Malfoy Manor. Across from him was his mother, staring cautiously at her son. She could almost resemble a statue with her way of sitting, but he hated how she made him feel like an oddity ever since her wrongdoing.

To Draco, it was incredibly uncomfortable.

He knew the pain he caused his mother by walking out the door the last time he visited, but a secret that large was nearly unforgiveable when kept from your kin. Ever since finding out, Draco wondered why his mother would do something so insane. Stupid, yes. But cowardly? No. He still couldn’t believe the words that uttered out of Granger’s mouth this morning. Had she known what his mother had gone through to keep the peace for her own family, she wouldn’t consider her a coward any longer. But the more Draco dawned on it, not even he could fathom what went on in his mother’s head when thinking of giving up an infant born to the most powerful and menacing wizard alive.

“You look ill.” Narcissa spoke, her eyes peering intently at her son. Draco inhaled, already growing annoyed merely by the sound of her voice.

“Where’s father?” His voice low and cold as he stiffened up at the talk of his blood. He didn’t hate his father, but he didn’t like him, either. The only thing keeping him coming back to this manor was mostly his mother, and the secrets stored in these cold walls.

“He’s having an afternoon nap,” She spoke. “He was in a lot of pain, today.”

Draco shifted in his seat, changing his position to take out the newspaper he had folded into his trousers pocket. He chose to ignore his mother’s explanation, and instead began to focus on something more compelling. Draco rose to his feet, causing Narcissa to shift as well, prepared to stop him if he left without a good resolution. He watched his mother’s body relax when seeing him walking towards her, rather than away from her. With his eyes steady on his mother’s face, ready to analyze her reaction, he handed her the newspaper that Hermione had showed him earlier.

Narcissa held up the newspaper, examining the photograph with a slight smile. It was hard to deny the genuine fondness she grasped from the newspaper. Draco, standing there with Hermione and Delphini. To Narcissa, it was even heartwarming to see them together. But, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to accept that, just yet. Instead, she quickly glimpsed over the headlines and then spotting something that she could use to maintain her cold demeanor. With a suck of her teeth, she tossed the paper on the coffee table before her, once spotting the paper that was published by Rita Skeeter.

“You know I can’t stand anything written by that blasted tart.” She spat, though Draco wasn’t willing to fight her on that.

“Did you read the headlines?”

“I didn’t.” She lied.

Draco huffed, shaking his head as he retreated to his seat.

“The ministry is on the lookout to find Delphini’s relatives. They’re hoping someone will come forth. I think they’re willing to track any distant relatives.”

“Impossible,” Narcissa whispered to herself. “I’m old and gray. I cannot raise another child.”

“This wouldn’t have been your problem if you wouldn’t have given her up in the first place.” He spat, standing up once more and walking over to a large stand nearby their fireplace emitting green flames. He stopped, seeing photographs from when he was a child; when his happiness was as genuine as Delphini’s. Draco often wondered what happened to him, temporarily unaware that the trauma from his family caused him to be the type of person that he was. Yet when Hermione came around, she had brought some of that happiness back into him. He hadn’t had a laugh that genuine and real in a long time, and it was all because of a harmless little trick he played on Hermione. He laughed with her; not at her.

“You two look good together.” He heard his mother state from behind him.

Draco raised an eyebrow and turned around, seeing his mother holding the newspaper once more.

“What?”

“If I weren’t mistaken, I would think that you’re some sort of…odd family.”

“I guess we are.” Draco spoke smugly, crossing his arms in front of his chest. His mother looked at him, a slight smile growing on her face, causing Draco to correct himself. “Not Hermione and I. I mean…Granger. I was really referring to how-”

“You fancy her,” His mother began to slowly close the newspaper before him,, putting the paper down. “Don’t you?”

Draco, not used to having his family be supportive of him fraternizing, let alone conversing, with a muggle, was a huge shock to him. Part of him didn’t want to believe it as part of him wondered if she were joking. Regardless, he knew very well that if his father were around, a joke like that would not have been made or tolerated.

“Don’t be cruel, Narcissa,” Narcissa and Draco both turned, their heads whipping to the large staircase where Lucius stood in a long black robe. “Draco knows better.”

Draco glanced at his mother, her eyes revealing an inner sadness at the interruption of their conversation. He knew that his mother could see the truth within him, as for his father, it was hard to distinguish if he saw it too and took pride in belittling his potential feelings or if he were genuinely oblivious.

“Oh, we were just having a laugh, weren’t we Draco?” Narcissa spoke, attempting to diffuse the tension regarding Hermione. Draco could feel his heart begin to ache at the thought. He thought, for the first time, he’d finally have the opportunity to speak without fear of being vilified, though all hope was suddenly lost.

“Yes,” Draco lied, looking back at the photograph of him when he was younger. “A laugh.”

 

 

\--

The days of February came, and when the days turned to a week, Hermione was plagued with the fact that she missed Draco and missed him awful. After learning of Ginny’s engagement and the talk they had afterwards, Hermione took it upon herself to contact Ron and let him know everything, face-to-face. As expected, he didn’t take it well. He felt disrespected, not because of the lift situation, but because of her secret-keeping. Though, there was one small detail that Hermione chose to leave out, with good reason, and that was her affinity to Draco. After all, he didn’t need to know that, anyway. That would have been like adding salt to a wound.

Though Hermione knew in her heart what happened between her and Draco that night, Ron’s suspicions remained, though he knew that they didn’t necessarily matter, months after their breakup had occurred. Still, it didn’t make the pain subside any less.

It’s not like she thought it would.

Valentine’s Day had come around again, and Hermione found herself in the same position as last year: At her desk, working. Minute details about Delphini had come about in The Daily Prophet, like how she showed her magical abilities yet again, but nothing more than that. The more she saw pictures of Delphini, the more she thought of Draco. They both had nearly the same coloured hair, and the photograph of the duo holding her made Hermione’s heart smile. Yet, she still couldn’t bring herself to speak to Draco. Lately, time wasn’t on her side. She had become super-glued to her desk to write the 5-page explanation to London’s Prime Minister that she barely had the opportunity to have a thought to herself, even though Draco managed to sneak in her mental from time-to-time.

Unlike last year, she made careful watch of her time. She packed up her items at 8, visited Fletcher to promise a finished product by tomorrow, and wandered along her floor as coworkers still lingered, enjoying the food and drink for the Valentine’s Day festivities.

No Draco.

With her items in tow, she even walked to catch the lift she was on that same fateful night, and watched as the gate swung open, revealing just an empty cart. Disappointed, Hermione boarded the lift, feeling that there was only one logical place left for her to check before giving up completely.

 

 

\--

Draco looked down at the old newspaper from a week ago, cherishing the genuine smile he had on his face with Hermione by his side. Things were a lot simpler, then. He didn’t have to worry about how his parents kept such a huge secret from him, or how he and Hermione hadn’t spoken in what felt like ages but was only a week. He couldn’t deny the fact that he missed her. The smile on the newspaper, as it replayed over and over was his odd comfort in what was now his darkest time. If he and Hermione did mend things, as friends or whatever, how would he even go about explaining something crucial like this to her? It would change everything.

From the front of the shop, he could smell his usual drink being made, the only source of comfort he had, recently. From the corner of his eye, he could see movement outside of the shop window. Without even looking, his heartbeat hastened, making him worry slightly as to why.

And then he saw her.

All five feet three inches of her, brown hair in a messy bun, just as he liked, and a questioned look on her face; her signature thinking face. She was looking at him, just as he was looking at her with much admiration and relief. Though they were momentarily separated by glass, her presence topped his favorite comfort drink on any day.

“Mr. Malfoy,” The employee asked, walking out with his cup from the back. Draco turned to her, a slight smile on his face. “Your order.”

“Oh, right, thank you.” He spoke. He could feel his need to move quicker kick in, as though if he didn’t fix his cup with the peppermint stick fast enough, she’d disappear from existence, altogether.

“Take a chance?” The patron asked from in front of him.

“What?” He asked, looking up at her, to find her holding trays of cookies. They were heart-shaped and had the words “LOVE” written in pink cursive, just as they were presented to him and Hermione last week during their investigation.

“Our store biscuits, sir.” The employee explained.

Draco look at the biscuits, then at Hermione who was still peering at him from outside the window and decided to partake in their theme. Was this a sign? He carefully took the warm, buttery biscuit, wrapping it in a napkin, and placing it in his pocket, exiting the store.

Once outside, he stood there, staring at her just as she stared at him. He had almost forgotten how much taller he was than her. But he liked it. He watched as snowflakes began to breeze past them, landing gently in her hair, decorating it naturally. Upon realizing he was staring, Draco looked down at his drink and handed it in her direction.

“Do you want the first sip?”

Hermione smiled a bit, shaking her head as a loose curl eventually came popping out from her bun.

“No, thank you.”

Silence fell between the duo yet again, this time allowing Hermione to take lead of the conversation.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Same to you,” He nodded, taking a sip of his drink. “Do you have any plans, tonight?”

“None.” She spoke, noticing her answer was far different from the answer she gave him last year.

“None,” he repeated in surprise. “I would’ve thought you had something planned.”

Hermione let her smile ease up a bit as she looked up at him.

“That’s something that I wanted to talk to you about,” She started, taking the conversation very seriously. “Ron and I broke up months ago. What you saw at the jeweler was us gathering to support Harry when he bought an engagement ring for Ginny, Ron’s sister.”

Draco blinked, everything clicking together. It was at that moment that he realized how much he truly fancied her and felt like a fool. He allowed his assumptions to cloud up his opportunity to get to know he better. Now, a week had been wasted.

“Well, then I owe you an apology.” He spoke, looking off to the side.

“Yeah, you do.” Hermione smiled slightly. She could feel her cheeks begin to warm while once again in his presence but decided to seize the night. “Did you want to, uh, walk me to my flat while I hear your apology?”

 

 

\--

 

“Okay, okay, my turn,” Hermione chimed, holding Draco’s cup of hot chocolate before taking a sip and returning it to him. The two were walking and talking, having a genuinely decent conversation about getting to know each other more than what they already knew. “Favorite…guilty pleasure drink. 3…2…1…”

“Fire whiskey!” // “Butter beer.” Hermione and Draco chimed at the same time.

“Butter beer?” Hermione asked with a slight giggle. “Draco Malfoy likes butterbeer?”

“I like to indulge from time to time. Now as for you, I’m not so surprised. A fiery personality likes a fiery drink.” Draco smirked, taking a sip after her.

“Alright, now…hmmm…favorite moment.” Hermione smirked, attempting to steer the questions in a different level that didn’t so much go on materialistic items, but rather feelings. As they walked, she watched Draco carefully think this one through, and soon looking at her with his answer.

“This one.”

Hermione smirked a bit, playfully shoving Draco a bit from his response.

“You’re a liar.” She grinned, shaking her head a bit. “There has to have been a memory before this one that touched your soul in a different way.”

She was right.

He had great memories from his childhood, like when he started Hogwarts, and when he made his friends, but to him, there were very little moments in his childhood worthy of remembering that started great and ended great, too. Most of his childhood, he couldn’t have greatness without some sort of backlash, as well. But, he couldn’t deny that this moment, walking along mostly empty streets with Hermione, was special.

“I guess you’ll either have to believe me or live your life knowing that that’s the only answer you’ll get.” Draco spoke, giving her a bit of his famous mystique.

“Touché,” Hermione agreed. “I’ll accept defeat just this once.”

“Okay, my turn,” Draco spoke with a quick glance. “Hardest memory.”

It didn’t take long for Hermione to come up with an answer for that one. With slight shame on her face, she looked down at the pavement as they walked. She removed her scarf from her face, tucking it closer to her neck as she prepared herself for her response.

“When I had to obliviate my parents’ memory, and when I returned after the war, they were gone. I don’t even know if they’re alive.”

Draco could feel the energy shift. He cursed himself silently for bringing about something negative rather than positive, but the fact that she was so willing to open up to him even after being mad at him said a lot. As they continued their journey, he watched as a tear began to travel down her cheek, and then another.

“If you’re anything like them, then I’m sure they’re okay.” His statement caused her to smile at him, a slight shrug coming from her as she shied away from the fact that she was crying in front of him. Though all shyness ceased once she watched Draco lift a hand towards her, carefully wiping her tears away. He was so gentle, Hermione wondered if he even wiped the tears off, at all.

“I just feel guilty most of the time. They’re gone and don’t even remember having a daughter. They can be halfway to New York by now. Or Canada or Bulgaria.”

“You did what you had to do,” Draco spoke firmly, not in a means to disregard or push her thoughts off for his own, but to reassure her. “I know what it’s like to do something you don’t want to do. I’m surprised, to this day, that you even give me the time of day.”

“I always wanted to talk to you,” Hermione confessed. “I always felt like you and I would get on pretty well, but it was hard to because of how we acted in front of everybody.”

“You mean how I acted?”

“…Partly.”

Draco took a moment to gather himself before getting the chance to express something to Hermione.

“When I was eight years old, I had a caretaker who was muggle-born, but my parents didn’t know. One day, we were out by a lake with my father’s vile Death Eater friends, and I slip into the water. I didn’t know how to swim, so my head went under. I’m swallowing water, my breathing gets more and more rigid, and I can’t scream out for help. The inside of my nose felt like it were on fire, my hair was in my eyes. I was drowning. My caretaker was the first to see me, and so she rushes to save me. One of the Death Eaters recognizes my caretaker as someone they went to Hogwarts with—a muggle. This part, my mum told me because I was unconscious at this point. My father and his friends draw their wands at her, the woman who just saved his son’s life, and after that, I never saw her again. That was my first experience witnessing prejudice, and from then on, it was taught. It was instilled and engraved in my attributes and my personality. I had become what my father had wanted me to become. And now, I can never forgive him for what he had done to her.”

Hermione took the story in, seeing the pain on Draco’s face as he told it. Even the toughest or nastiest people went through traumatic situations that led them to where they were. But what she admired most was that he turned his life around to end the cycle of hatred.

 

The two grew nearer to Hermione’s flat, standing on the outside of the door with thoughts of tonight’s conversation and walk on both of their minds. Hermione leaned against the door of her flat, looking Draco over.

“Well, this is me,” She spoke, pointing her thumb to the door. “Thank you for walking me.”

Draco looked down a bit, forcing himself not to smile. Merlin, the things that would happen if he stared at her for a moment too long. Instead, Draco decided to make a joke.

“And it only took…” Draco pulled out his pocket watch to check the time and looked back at her. “An hour.”

“That long,” Hermione grinned. “It usually only takes me about twenty minutes.”

Hermione nearly questioned where the time had gone, wondering how a walk managed to take so long, but then remembering all the stops they made, and the different routes that they took to lead back to her flat, just to get more time together on this night. Yet, she didn’t have a reason at all to complain. Time tended to fly when having fun.

“Did you realize that’s how long we were stuck in the lift for last year?”

Hermione could feel her cheeks become tired from grinning, but she couldn’t help but continue at the sudden revelation. Quickly, though, she feigned her inquisitive nature as she folded her arms right in front of her chest.

“No, I didn’t. But I’m glad to know that you were keeping count,” She teased before letting herself be serious. “I had a nice time tonight.”

“Well, I better get going.” He spoke, looking her over. She was beautiful, and still full of life even at this hour. But he wasn’t sure if today was the appropriate timing to give in to his emotions.

“Okay,” Hermione spoke, slight disappointment shrouding her voice. “Good night.”

“Good night,” Draco spoke. He watched her begin to unlock the door and then remembered what he had tucked away nicely in his pocket. “Oh wait, one more thing.”

Hermione stood in curiosity as he reached into his pocket and retrieved something small wrapped in a napkin. She looked up at him, her hands open to receive it, though as soon as he planted it in her hands, she watched him walk off. Hermione pushed her front door open, closing it behind her as she leaned against it. She carefully opened up the napkin, seeing the small “LOVE” pastry in her hands. The same one that was offered to her when she first saw him inside of Chance, the same one they gave to them as they shared laughs inside of Chance, and now, in her possession.

She remembered her first sign, “COURAGE”, and remembered their favorite spot to frequent during their lunch hour and realized that it was all leading up to one thing.

Chance.

She held the biscuit tightly in her hand, turning around and opening the front door, surprised to see Draco standing there, his fist in mid-air to show he were about to knock on her door once more.

The two of them stood there, waiting for the other to make the first move. Any type of first move. Hermione shoved the pastry in her pants pocket, trying her hardest to suppress her desire to lunge at him first, but stood completely in shock as Draco came inside. With his eyes focusing on her, he closed the door behind him as he reached towards her gentle face, bringing her into a kiss.

For a moment, Hermione struggled to figure out if this were reality or not. Her heart was thudding, her body was on fire, and her stomach was in such a somersault, feathery way that she feared she would burst out into giggles, mid-kiss. Wrapping her arms around him, she pulled him closer as they kissed, passionately and messily.

Neither of them cared.

His lips, soft and moist were irresistible. They had only been on her for a few seconds before she realized how much she wanted them everywhere.

Then, as soon as the kids had come, it ended . The two pulled apart, staring at each other breathlessly as they attempted to recover from the kiss. Hermione’s eyes were filled with tears, as the passion had overcome her. She wanted this for so long. Though, seeing the look on Draco’s face, she came back to reality. He was staring at her, an odd expression on his face that Hermione couldn’t exactly make out. Was it fear?

Draco stood, wiping the side of his mouth slightly as he also came back to reality.

“I have to go.”

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the late chapter! I've been sick...  
> Anyways, here's a nice, long, 9 page chapter for you to enjoy!

It had been a while since Hermione had felt a relief as great as the one she felt, this day. She had finally received confirmation that Draco felt the same way that she felt about him. It almost felt unimaginable that something like this would happen. She had felt like she had a teenage crush, all over again. What a loving, inviting feeling. Hermione couldn’t help but wonder if this was how Ginny felt about Harry for so many consecutive years. Their love had lasted through exes and wars and the Chamber of Secrets. And now, they were to be married. It was their destiny. While Hermione wondered anxiously if she would feel this same way when her time has come, she quickly brushed the idea out of her head. Yeah, she loved being with Draco and she felt lifted once they shared their first kiss. But thinking about marriage wouldn’t have been smart. Not at this moment.

As she sat on her desk, Hermione began closing a bunch of her wedding ideas magazines and the notes she took for each of them. She had been inspired by her emotions to take it upon herself to help plan Ginny’s wedding and the events leading up to it. Yet, when she looked at her clock in the corner of her office, she noticed the time.

11:50.

Right on time.

 

                                                                                          --

Draco found himself pacing inside his office. Merlin, he hated pacing. He felt it was a nervous twitch he had developed when he found himself no longer confined to his thoughts. He used to wallow in his thoughts on his own and silently. As he aged, he became slightly more expressive, though not by much. But, the one thing that tampered with his mental was Hermione and their kiss. He felt liberated by it. But with the liberation also came a sadness. He didn’t feel right kissing her. Not because she wasn’t the right person to kiss, but because the secret he kept weighed heavy on his heart. It wouldn’t be fair of him to indulge in her presence and take in every single aspect of her beauty, both outside and within, when he held such a horrendous clue.

He glanced at the clock in the corner of his office. He would have to take his lunch soon, but where to go? He knew Hermione would be at Chance, which is really the only place he liked to frequent, but now he ran out of options. He needed a plan on how he would avoid her. For her own good.

Just as he began analyzing his lunch options, a soft knock came on his door that made his stomach flutter. Without even knowing who it was, he could already tell it was her. Before answering, he had to calm himself. He quickly ran his fingers through his hair to slick it back and adjusted his tie. He made his way over to his desk, scattering papers about all over the place, and then retrieving his wand to open the door from where he sat.

The door opened slowly with an eerie creak, making Draco all the more curious to look up at the individual standing in the doorway, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Yet, when he heard a soft ‘ahem’, he looked up.

And there she was.

He had to admit that he missed her face. Seeing her was quite the relief, and he could feel his longing grow deeper within him. He wanted her in only the best ways that merely her presence was taunting him. He remembered how he nearly attacked her face with his kiss, but then remembered how she responded to him. And worst of all, he remembered the look on her face when he cut their kiss short and decided to leave.

“Oh, hi.” He spoke, looking up at her. She was dressed, clearly ready to go to lunch.

“How are you?” She asked, looking around his office and then back at him.

“Fine,” He spoke, nodding a bit to himself. “How are you?”

Hermione rolled her eyes slightly, a slight grin on her face from his question.

“I’m fine,” She copied. “But I’m mostly wondering why we’re having a conversation as if we had never met each other before.”

“Sorry.” Draco asked, turning his attention away from her angelic grin and back to his ‘work’.

“Was it interrupting you,” She asked. “I thought you would be headed to lunch by now.”

“Oh, I’m just…uh, you know, working,” He mumbled. “On stuff.”

“Have you gotten an assignment?”

“Did you come for something?” Draco asked. Of course, he felt bad for making up fake assignments and work in order to avoid going to lunch with Hermione, but he didn’t want to fall back into his former habit of hurting her. He hated doing it before and doing it again would be hard on her.

Hermione looked at him, feeling shunned a bit at his response. Why was he treating her like this so suddenly? Was it the kiss? Either way, Hermione was too surprised in that moment to even ask. Draco was the one that kissed her, so she thought they were on the same page.

Apparently not…

“I wanted to see if you wanted to go to lunch, but I see you’re busy.”

“Yeah, very busy.”

Hermione debated whether she should stay and pick his brain or if she should leave him to his work, but she couldn’t help but feel compelled to ask.

“Are you alright?”

“I am,” He nodded. “But I’d be even better if I got this finished. It’s going to take me a while.”

That was all Hermione needed to hear. She decided that she wouldn’t push any further. She got the answers that she was looking for. Did she believe the genuine nature of them? Absolutely not. But she couldn’t force him to talk, either.

“Fine.”

Draco watched as she turned, walking from his office. He wasn’t certain why, but he could feel her disappointment. Could they have gotten that connected that he started to fully empathize and feel her emotions, too? Once she was full out of the door, Draco waved his wand to close it behind her, and let out the angriest sigh he had ever let come from within him.

                                                                                                         --

 

Even in the beautifully decorated venue, Hermione found it a little hard to be present, as much as she wanted to be. All the women in the room, chatting and clapping at Ginny receiving yet another bridal gift was nearly deafening, but she knew she had a job. It was an important responsibility being maid of honor, and Hermione prided herself in planning the entire festivities. However, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander back to her most recent memories of her and Draco. Oh, how things can change in just a matter of days. She could still feel his warm lips on hers, pressed against them in the most tender of ways. Though, she could also see the look on his face when he stopped kissing her, and when he completely acted differently when she visited his office. Subconsciously, Hermione reached up and touched her lips that still felt stained from both his and the words she didn’t say to him. Her eyes looked up from the floor of the burrow, and to the banners she hung around the room. ‘Love’, ‘Engaged’, ‘Bride-to-be’, all sprawled about, leaving Hermione to become even further indulged in her own mind. But she had to snap out of it.

“Hermione?” A slight voice called. Hermione quickly turned in the voice that it was directed to and saw Ginny, sitting down patiently, a curious and concerned look on her face. Her hand was in mid-air, attempting to touch her best friend to assure she were okay.

“Huh?” Hermione asked, snapping back to reality. However, when she saw Ginny’s face, she suddenly looked around the room. There were only women there, and she were glad of it. She didn’t need another man to come around and have the same scent of cologne he wore, or to sport a similar outfit. Anything that reminded her of Draco was something she didn’t want to see, even if she did, at the same time.

“I asked if I could see the next gift.” Ginny cocked her head to the side lightly, completely seeing through her.

“Oh, yes,” Hermione spoke, fumbling about in the pile in front of Ginny. “Uhm…”

“We already opened those, remember?” Ginny asked.

Hermione stood up straight embarrassed. She could feel her cheeks growing red from feeling foolish. She probably looked like the worst maid-of-honor-in-training, ever! She wasn’t even paying attention to the gifts Ginny received. Speechless, Hermione turned around, looking for the other gifts, though Molly came in just in time with two floating platters of teas and biscuits.

“It’s tea time!” She called, just as jolly as ever.

Leave it to Molly to always come when you needed her. As the women all clapped at Molly’s beautiful edible display, Ginny stood up, grabbing hold onto Hermione’s wrist and tugging her into the kitchen, away from all the rest of the guests.

Once there, Ginny let go and stood before Hermione, her arms folded in front of her.

“What is the matter with you?” She whispered angrily. That didn’t help Hermione’s emotions, at all. She could feel tears welling up and stinging Hermione’s eyes. She couldn’t tell what it was, but she was bothered, and confused, and just as angry as Ginny was. But not at her best friend; at Draco.

“I’m sorry, it’s just…Draco and I…”

“Ugh, please get a hold of yourself,” Ginny remarked. Hermione blinked a bit at her friend’s response to the start of her explanation. Hermione could understand that she talked about Draco quite a bit ever since she confessed that she fancied him, but she didn’t think it bothered Ginny. “I can’t deal with this right now.”

“Ginny, I’m sorry…” Hermione spoke, trailing off towards the end. She didn’t know the right words to say. What could she possibly say?

“Honestly, Hermione, I’ve been trying to plan a wedding. I want you by my side as my maid of honor. But I can’t exactly do that when you’re making the guests uncomfortable because of your feelings. I need you right now. I need you to be Hermione. Not Draco’s Hermione.”

The young woman lowered her head a bit, taking in everything Ginny was saying. She knew she had been consumed with her thoughts, but she also felt bad for the way it was affecting Ginny.

“You’re right,” Hermione shook off the thought. “I’ll get it together.”

Ginny sighed, looking over her friend, clearly feeling remorseful for how she reacted.

“Look, I’m not doing it because I don’t care about how you’re feeling. It’s just that right now, I’m getting married. I’m nervous as all hell, and I really need my best friend with me.” Ginny reached forward, grasping Hermione’s hands lightly, and caressing them gently. With that, Hermione knew she needed to gather herself and her thoughts in order to put them on the back burner. She could hold off on thinking about Draco for one day, right? Before jumping to a day, Hermione decided to start with an hour, first. How hard could that be?

 

Hours wore on as the party progressed and Ginny finally felt Hermione trying. She could still sense her friend lingering over something, but she was thankful that she tried to snap out of it, for her sake. This was, after all, her day. After all the guests had left and the gifts had been unwrapped, Ginny watched as Hermione took silent count from across their sitting area.

“Fifteen presents!” Hermione grinned, turning around to see her friend. Her bright smile was a relief, especially after the events of today, and upon seeing it, Ginny couldn’t help but feel as though she needed to apologize for taking out all her stress and excitement from wedding duties on her friend.

“I’m sorry about earlier.” Ginny spoke up. Hermione’s excitement turned into a bit of a relaxed smile as she shook her head, her curls following her motion.

“No,” Hermione started. “Don’t apologize. I was just lost in thought and it was inappropriate of me to get consumed in them on your day.”

Ginny chuckled a bit, looking up at her friend as she stood before her. She was thankful to have Hermione in her life, and even more thankful that Hermione had followed her advice on telling Ron about where things went wrong in the relationship. She desperately wanted to know what else had occurred between her brother and her best friend, but decided that it would have been best not to bring up something as sensitive as a breakup.

“So, what’s been troubling you?”

Hermione plopped down beside Ginny in the burgundy, patchy chair and thought before taking the chance to speak.

“Draco and I kissed.”

Ginny nearly jumped out of her seat at the confession, but she couldn’t help it. She was still having her days where she struggled with the idea of Draco and Hermione being together, solely because of their past. Draco had gained the reputation of being someone who reveled in the sorrow of others, therefore it was hard to hear that things between them were progressing. Draco Malfoy kissing Hermione Granger? Who would’ve thought!

“You’re a liar!” Ginny grinned mischeviously.

Hermione shushed her silently and then hesitated before deciding to spill everything.

“We kissed on Valentine’s Day, and it felt so…good.”

“Is he a good kisser?” Ginny asked, loving the looks that Hermione bore on her face as she relived her precious moment.

“He is,” Hermione grinned, fully succumbing to the feeling. She could almost feel that night all over again, but just as she reminisced on the good, the bad came, as well. “But then something weird happened.”

“Okay, too much information!” Ginny laughed loudly, covering her ears, causing Hermione to shake her head with rosy cheeks.

“No, not like that,” Hermione spoke. In fact, the thought of them being intimate in that way had never really crossed her mind. For the most part, when they weren’t working, she was interested in the time they spent together. “We were kissing and all of a sudden he broke away, looked at me oddly, and then he just left.”

Ginny blinked a bit, slowly removing her hands from her ears as her smile began to cease. Just as it didn’t make sense to Hermione, it didn’t make sense to her, either.

“He…left?”

Hermione nodded quickly, carefully studying her friend’s expression. She didn’t dare mention to Ginny how Draco acted when seeing her after the kiss happened. She knew exactly what Ginny would suggest she do if she felt as though Draco were blowing her off. When realizing Ginny wouldn’t respond, she nearly yelled out for help.

“Please say something!”

“I don’t know what to say,” Ginny answered honestly. “Who kissed who first?”

“He kissed me.”

“Well, then I don’t think there’s any doubt about his feelings for you. I just think that maybe he was feeling as nervous as you were about his feelings for you. Imagine going through most of your pre-pubescence with someone you were wired to hate because of your family. It would boggle your mind and you’d feel some sort of shift, wouldn’t you?”

“No,” Hermione spoke, though realizing she was speaking mostly from impulsiveness. “Yes. Ugh, I don’t know.”

“Just relax. There’s no reason to rush things,” Ginny spoke. She saw Hermione’s face, both confusion and wonder. Her eyes were soft, as if dazing in and out of that memory she shared with him. “Would you feel okay if I invited him to the wedding?”

Hermione’s eyes widened at the suggestion. She wasn’t sure if her friend were taunting her with her own feelings, or if that was a genuine offer.

“You mean it?”

“Of course,” Ginny nodded. “I’ll just have to let Harry know. I hope he won’t put up a fuss if he finds out I’m doing it solely for you.”

Hermione grinned widely, opening her mouth to speak, though stopping upon hearing knocking coming from the front door.

“I’ll get it!” Molly shouted from the kitchen. The girls watched as she headed towards the door, wondering who it could be at this time. The party was over and nighttime was falling. “Ah! Harry!”

“Harry?” Ginny asked, excitement coming over as she stood up.

Molly stepped to the side, revealing Harry to her daughter. Hermione watched as Ginny nearly bounced with each step as she made her way over to him. Ginny stepped outside the house, closing the front door behind her so that she could have some moments of privacy with him.

“I was just talking about you,” She smirked, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Just beware that I invited Malfoy to the wedding because I’m-”

“You did what?” Harry asked, nearly shouting.

His reaction is what prompted Ginny to realize that something was wrong. She could see the sweat beads on his forehead and how heavily he was breathing.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, taking his hand.

Harry looked around, as if the walls had ears and leaned in to his fiancée.

“There’s a rumor going around that the Malfoys have something to do with Delphini.”

“Who now?”

“Delphini! The baby girl that Hermione and Malfoy saved.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“The Ministry is looking into investigating who could possibly have wandered into the Muggle world with a baby witch. They’re looking to prosecute whoever has anything to do with it, and rumor has it that the Malfoys are involved. I don’t know how, but something isn’t adding up.”

Ginny could feel herself beginning to worry. She had just given Hermione the O-K to bring Draco to the wedding if they fixed things to grant her blessing to the aspiring couple. Still, she wasn’t sure if she had just made the mistake of a lifetime by inviting him. At this point, Ginny found it hard to believe whether the Malfoy’s had changed, at all.

 

                                                                                          --

It was fairly nice on that Winter afternoon. The sun, despite the usual dull and cloudy days, decided to poke itself out. To Hermione, it was a sign of hope for the new day. Valentine’s Day was all over, and a new week had come into full force. She had decided that regardless of what happened between she and Draco, she would stand just as tall and strong. Even if that meant she had to deal with her feelings all by herself, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

She sipped her beverage and looked down at the newspaper she had placed before her. No updates, nothing new, just the same, boring, news brought to you by The Daily Prophet. Lately, things had began getting boring, to her. This one man had stepped back into her life and turned it completely around. His kiss was magnetic; electric. She wasn’t sure what it was that made her so drawn to him, but she hoped aimlessly that she would find out more.

She decided to close the newspaper, looking out the large windows of Chance, and noticed the familiar face she had been hoping to see for quite some time, now.

Draco.

With…Agatha?

Yet, this wasn’t a feeling of jealousy that came over her. Instead, she watched their body languages. She watched as Agatha waved her hands angrily at Draco in a manner that she could only interpret as yelling. And Draco? He was just standing there, visibly angry, though not even talking over her. Hermione, as per usual, grew curious as to what was going on. What could have possibly been so disastrous that they argued in broad daylight? You would think they heard of professionalism, especially with their status.

Hermione gathered her items, slowly walking to the door. She watched as Agatha glanced at her, and with a roll of her eyes, decided to no longer argue with Draco. Instead, she watched as she walked away and down the street, leaving Draco standing there.

As Hermione exited, she watched Draco begin to defend himself.

“You can walk away all you want but this doesn’t solve or prove anything!”

Standing slightly behind and beside him, Hermione raised an eyebrow at his statement.

“Prove what?”

Draco flinched a bit at her voice, turning around to see her. Having his eyes on her again felt addicting. His eyes on her was what she wanted for so long, and now, he was here. Standing there, but still just as handsome and attractive in his anger as he was in his resting emotion.

“It doesn’t matter,” He spoke, trying to catch his breath a bit. As the two adults stood there, he adjusted his coat a bit and looked at her. “How have you been?”

“I actually wanted to talk to you,” Hermione spoke, shyness overcoming her. “About Valentine’s Day.”

“I, uh,” Draco began shifting a bit as he stood before her. If Hermione weren’t mistaken, she could have sworn that he were nervous around her, all of a sudden. “I really would like to stay and chat but I have to get back to my office soon and I have some things to take care of after work. Today’s just not a good day.”

Hermione swallowed, feeling a lump forming in her throat; word vomit threatening to break forth and spill out.

“Why did you kiss me and leave?”

“Did you expect me to stay the whole night?” Draco asked, furrowing his brow. Hermione scoffed a bit, crossing her arms before her.

“No,” She insisted. “I just wanted to know why it ended the way it did.”

“I’ve just had a lot on my plate.”

“Then you don’t take it out on someone and avoid them after you kiss them,” Hermione shouted, though she immediately realized that she was losing her cool. She allowed herself time to cool off before looking back at the blonde. “Excuse me.”

Draco watched as she stormed off away from him, and realized what he was doing to hurt her. He didn’t want to make things worse between them, and rather than let her walk, he decided to suck up his pride.

“Hermione, wait!” He walked, walking a bit faster to catch up to her. Stepping in front of her so that she couldn’t walk away anymore, he placed his hands on her shoulders.

“There’s nothing you can possibly say to make me feel better.”

“How about, ‘I’m sorry’, for starters?” He asked, looking deep into her beautiful brown eyes. While staring, he couldn’t help but remember why he had kissed her before. Not only was she beautiful and brilliant, but she was Hermione. She was everything he had hoped for, and he was about to lose her right before his own eyes. “I was pushing you away because of how I felt about you. My emotions were something that I had to catch up to and when I realized exactly what happened on Valentine’s Day, I realized that I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want you to hate me like when we were younger. I don’t want to hurt you the same way I did.”

Hermione looked into his eyes just the same as he looked into hers. She could see the genuine concern on his face, and appreciated his expression. She was angry, but not devastated. 

“Believe me when I say that you've done nothing that can compare to the way you've treated me in the past. We’ll get over that together. But we have to trust each other, okay? Just like you said.”

_Together._

Hermione watched as Draco smirked a bit at her, and suddenly, the moment felt right even though the placement did not. She looked around, seeing a few people walking by, a few that had stopped to see what their fight was all about. Instead of giving in to the witnesses, Hermione grabbed Draco’s wrist, leading him to a narrow, snowy alley.

“What are you doing?” He asked, mostly confused more than concerned. He had grown used to Hermione taking the lead on most things. Hermione didn’t even bother answering his question, however. She knew what she was doing, and when she had him right where she wanted him, she got to her tip-toes, meeting her lips with his. She knew deep within her that neither of them were ready for people to know of their private life, but she knew better than any charm, potion, or book she read in the Hogwarts library, that kissing Draco was what she craved.

Their lips parted slightly, letting their tongues flow into one another’s mouths, before reverting to regular, passionate kisses. Hermione, at first feeling dazed by their second kiss, suddenly became fully aware of what she was doing. His lips, like the softest pastry, were placed against hers. Though, as they kissed, they could feel soft snowflakes hitting their faces. The couple looked up, noticing that the snow wasn’t necessarily coming from the weather, but from them as they kissed.

“Look.” She whispered onto his lips in wonder. The only time she had seen that occur was when Ron had broken up with Lavender.

“I’m quite fond of this type of weather.” Draco teased, looking back at her before giving her one last innocent peck on the lips.

“Oh yeah,” Hermione smirked. “Tell me something else I don’t know.”

Draco grasped onto her flirting, feeling fully comfortable with her in his arms. It took him only a short moment to come to an answer to her statement.

“I’m yours.”


End file.
